Color Me Descending
by Vampire Louis
Summary: In heaven there are two types of angels: those who were created from thought and spoken into existence, and those who were once human souls that ascended and forgot their humanity. Or in Castiel's case, almost forgot their humanity. Destiel
1. Reaching for Clarity

**Chapter: **1 - _Reaching For Clarity_  
**Author**: AntiquityDreams  
**Co-Creator**: BlackFruitBat  
**Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas  
**Rating**: PG (eventually R?)  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Just borrowing them for a little bit, I'll return them soon!  
**Feedback**: We're big fans of feedback. Keeps us going _  
**Warnings**: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.  
**Author notes:** _This is my first time posting and first time writing for SPN. Please forgive me if I fail at something T__T! I'm the lead writer/concept creator and BlackFruitBat is my allstar Beta Reader/Researcher/Idea helper/part-time writer and all around amazing aid. I'm very sure this piece would have never made it up here without her help so I list her as my co-creator. So *deep breath* here it is ^^._

* * *

If he thinks back far enough he can remember something he suspects he wasn't meant to. At first, he guessed it was a consequence of being in a vessel; the lingering fragments of Jimmy seeping through the hardened veneer of his angelic presence to induce dreams while still awake. He'd catch glimpses every now and again, ripples of emotion and traces of color that would strike him at odd moments. It wasn't until their passing, until he was brought back to life and Jimmy had moved on, leaving an empty shell for Castiel to keep, that he truly knew it was something else.

The first lucid dream was of color, specifically blue and green. Not the artificial blues and greens of Man, mind you, but steel blue and true green -colors that vaguely reminded him of the ocean. And if the angel concentrated hard enough, for long enough, there was also a distinct smell. Distant as the color but more vibrant than the hue was the fragrance of water.

Now none of this would seem abnormal, really, if it weren't for the fact that these collections of sensations were more profound a phenomenon than he ever recalled any experience being. As it stood, all angels have dulled responses to their senses in order to keep them from distractions. Even when inhabiting a human experiences only became fractionally more intense, like experiencing the world through a plastic film with only vision and hearing reaching crystal quality. And even then, there was a filter.

His world was indubitable different. Perhaps to the average person it would seem more simplistic, having so much dulled compared to living under the influence of emotions. But really, it was such a perplexing view of reality that most would feel lost in a dream if they looked through his eyes. Castiel's world existed in muted tones of everything except blue, green and the smell of water.

Dean Winchester has green eyes. In fact, Dean's eyes are exactly the same shade he remembers so well and the reason behind this is questionable at best. Yet that hue strikes him as so very familiar, almost as if the answer was dancing on the tip of his tongue and that only serves to make him more inquisitive about the nature of this "familiar" sentiment. He often catches himself starring as he tries to force puzzle pieces together so as to make sense of the clues. Dean sometimes catches him in the act and calls him out on it in his own manner. If Castile could feel, he'd call himself embarrassed. But since the depth of that particular emotion still lacked clarity, he found the best thing to do was switch his attention to something less mock-worthy and smirk-inducing.

There is a third piece to the puzzle; one even more confusing than the first two because he doesn't understand what it is beyond a feeling. There is an emotion sunken in the depths of his being, and it has existed longer than doubt. Doubt that he knows only because he was taught to avoid it. Perhaps this is why his falling from grace had been so much faster than those around him. Because, unlike the others, he always had one foot out of step, "dissension " was merely a sideways motion instead of a downward fall.

The first time Dean insisted they go fishing was when Castiel began to realize that perhaps these slivers of sensations may actually belong to him. Jimmy was no longer with him (the human spirit had not been reinstate when he was resurrected) and the empty space gave the angel a lot of room to analyze everything. Much to his surprise, there was more there than what had been there before and not all of it could be accounted for.

"Are you serious? Fishing?" That was Sam Winchester; younger brother of Dean Winchester, designated vessel of Lucifer, eater of salads and things Dean liked to refer to as "healthy crap". Which Castiel had noted, on many an occasion, is an oxymoron. Feces is never healthy.

"Sure. Why not? No one is here to complain if we borrow the boat and some poles. 'Sides, I've got a cooler full of beer and time to waste." That was his charge, Dean Winchester. The soul he gripped tight and pulled from perdition. The chosen vessel of Michael. The one he chose to fall from heaven to help. Consumer of burgers and beer and.. apparently fish.

Catalog. Organize. Make sense of the clues, thoughts, feel--

"Cas?" Said angel blinked back to the present, aware that he had drifted off for 8.6 seconds but unaware as to why that caught anyone's attention.

"Yes?" The sound of his humanized voice always struck him as odd because of how little it sounded like his true voice. The human vocal cords stretched and strained to contain the sound of his speech and, in the end, came out sounding so much like gravel under foot. His real voice was not at all like this. The voice of any angel is supposed to be a smooth and claming vibration, washing over people in waves of honey and milk; light as a butterfly kiss and warm like your grandmother's freshly baked pie. The tones all varied, as if each angel had a unique flavor of pie (if he continued this metaphor he'd like to say his was apple but he's unsure if that's because it's true or if that's the influence of Dean Winchester).

Yet the voice he used now... it was rough and-- SNAP!

Castiel jerked backwards, away from the fingers snapping in front of him.

"Hey Captain Kirk, why don't you take a vacation from the Enterprise and join the rest of us down here on earth?"

"Dean, you know I don't understand these references..." Honestly, why he eve bothered using them on Castiel was beyond him.

"Yeah, he's more like Spock anyway." Sam corrected from the far left where he was pulling gear from the impala.

"So how 'bout it green blood? You and me out on the boat?"

"I assure you my blood is red and there is only room for two individuals on that flotation devise."

Dean looked amused and Castiel couldn't help but squint at him in question. He resisted the urge to glean thoughts from the man's mind because the last lecture had been strongly worded enough to make a point that Cas should NOT be doing it anyway. So he settled for a look that was second nature and mostly unconscious.

"You really weren't listening, were you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Head tilt.

"I'm not going." Sam stood up from his kneeling position on the ground, brushing his pants off as he did so. "I'm not fond of lakes. Or large bodies of water in general."

Castiel nodded at this because he understood, "The drowning incident of 1991."

Sam raised a single eyebrow and Dean fidgeted slightly, apparently uncomfortable with the mention of the accidentally almost-drowning of Sam Winchester. Probably due to the fact Dean was supposed to be watching Sam instead of picking up on girls when the bullies approached the boy alone on the dock. Evidently Dean still had lingering guilt over the situation regardless of how unnecessary it was. Castiel understood the condition but not the reasons... or the feelings associated with it. Humans were a labyrinth of byzantine emotions.

"Right. So, since there's one open spot, means you're coming. Grab a pole and let's go."

Castiel learned long ago that arguing with Dean when he had already made up his mind was like trying to pull crop from a barren land. It was fruitless.

True blues scoped the area to find a pole leaning against a tree next to a tackle box, which he presumed was also his unspoken duty to carry along. Picking both up, the brunette headed for the dock where small boat waited their arrival. The boat belonged to the owners of the cabin; however, no one would be using it any time soon as the cabin had been recently deserted because of rumors of ghosts that turned out to be just raccoons in the attic. City people were really clueless sometimes, always stubborn that there is no reason to leave a house despite the human-like shadows and flying cutlery, yet an easily explained nesting animal causes them enough fear to evacuate.

Finding the place hospitable and (now) raccoon free, Dean took it upon himself to squat for a few days and enjoy the benefits of a summer cabin stocked to the brim with no inhabitants to speak of. At least, none until the owners came back to check on the "ghost exorcists" they had claimed to be.

With tackle box and pile in toe, Cas couldn't help but marvel at the advancements fishing had made over the span of its inception. For being such an old tradition, it's amazing all the progress modern man has put towards a technique that has never actually changed. Much like war, you can change the players and the equipment but the basics remain the same.

The Holy Wars of Heaven are not all that unlike the wars of man.

Upon push off, Castiel felt an instant overwhelming rush of familiarity. The gentle lapping of water and the distant sounds of splashing wildlife. He knew this. And the look on his face must have been strange for not even four strokes deep into the lame, Dean looked... concerned? Confused? Both? Emotions were hard to read when you only had a face to observe, especially when the one being deciphered heavily relied on the strange acts of "sarcasm" and "dry humor," something Dean indulged in on a daily (or sometimes hourly) basis.

"Oh don't tell me you're hydrophobic too..." Case in point.

"I know this."

Dean raised a single brow and pushed his head forward, the look Castiel has categorized as 'I need more information but I'm not going to verbally ask for it'. The angel knew this one pretty well, if only because he saw it so often.

"Fishing. I know this. It's... familiar."

Dean scoffed as he opened the tackle box Cas had brought and began to bait his own pole. "I would hope so, you're older than dirt... right?" The man cast his line out and would have completely missed the look Castiel was giving him if the angel didn't have the habit of holding his expressions for longer than necessary.

"No. I'm not as old as some of my brothers and sisters. I was created..." And there was that 'zoned out' look again. If Dean didn't outright KNOW better, he might have accused Cas of getting an early start on the foretold drug abuse habit he saw in Zachariah's future.

"Created..?" The blond prompted once he steadied his line in the pole holder while simultaneously reaching for a beer.

"After man kind." Cas seemed confused and possibly a little lost so Dean took a bit of sympathy on him and handed him the first open beer. What? He knew how to play nice with other kids when he had to.

Taking the beer, the angel drank from it slowly and Dean just watched because it seemed foreign every time he did something distinctly human. A while ago the oldest Winchester had discovered that Cas liked beer as it apparently reminded him of years spent in Egypt, long before Dean was thought of… or most countries were invented. When the world was still new, Cas told him, beer was much like a meal in itself and the acquired taste for it simply grew on him. Even if today's beer was a much more watered down version of the older drink, he still appreciated the darker brews and Dean was just sort of fine with that. Damn his life was weird.

The angel's eyes were unfocussed at some distant point that Dean could only dream about and it reminded him of how he and Sam had once theorized what it would be like to be as old as Cas. Seeing humanity grow and change like the shifting sands on the face of a desert.

Well... Sam theorized, Dean just got drunk and humored his rambling until he passed out.

Reaching over, the man snagged the end of Cas' pole and baited it for him, waiting for the angel to snap out of it and get down to business.

"Alright Skipper. Since you're so well versed in the ways of fishing, whoever catches the biggest fish first wins and the looser can do everyone else's laundry for a week."

Castiel thought to argue the fact that he, in fact, did not make laundry and also did not mind doing the boys' chore but stopped short at the smug expression on Dean's face. He was amused and pleased with himself, for once, so the angel refused to break the spell and simply cast out his line instead. Some part of Castiel wanted to explain to Dean that fishing wasn't so familiar because he'd seen humans do it for centuries, it was familiar because (if he stretched his mind back far enough) he can actually remember doing the act himself. And that was a shell shocking realization because it could really only mean one thing.

In heaven there are two types of angels. Those who were created from thought and spoken into existence and those who were once human souls that ascended and forgot their humanity.

Or in Castiel's case, almost forgot their humanity.

That night Dean triumphantly declared himself free of laundry duty for the next week and Castiel faintly smiled with a secret like a father who let a child win at a game to make them feel better. Besides, he liked remedial tasks that allowed him to understand the human race a little better. Specifically things that allowed him to become closer to the people he watched over.

Sam, his friend, and Dean his... special person.

Tbc


	2. His Special Person

**Title**: Color Me Descending

**Chapter**: 2/?

**Author**: AntiquityDreams

**Co-Creator**: BlackFruitBat

**Genre**: General, Mystery, Romance and some Humor to grease the wheels :D

**Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas

**Rating**: PG (eventually R?)

**Spoilers**: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.

**Feedback**: We're big fans of it. Keeps us going ^^

**Warnings**: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.

_**AntiquityDreams notes:** Alright, Blackfruitbat and I have gotten our heads around this story pretty well so we'll hopefully be able to produce more chapters at a quicker rate. That is, assuming school and upcoming conventions don't get in the way ^^; Let me know if you guys are like this at all or not. We're totally open to suggestions as well :3_

* * *

About 100 years B.D.W. (before Dean Winchester, because that's how Castiel learned to keep track of human time) the angel spent a stay in Japan. He had been called to duty for two years of close observation over a human bloodline. It would be his longest consecutive stay on Earth with only the occasional assistance of Ezekiel as back up. Truly an honor for an angel as young as himself.

The project was meant to insure the existence of a profit who would be created around 80 years* A.D.W. (After Dean Winchester). The eventual prophet was being designed from a bloodline of other prophets and powerful psychics in this area, not an easy task considering the rigidly strict rules about minimal human contact. She would be charged with foretelling the involvement of their native country through the upcoming apocalypse and the results of it in her region. Hence their interest in her inception and first moments of life.

"Castiel." The wise man approaching, grandfather of the pregnant woman he was watching over, spoke with a certain amount of authority that demanded an audience. His name was Toshi and he was a blind monk, one whose psychic ability was unmatched by any of his generation, even if most of his generation regarded him as… less than mentally aware. Probably to the benefit of the local angels working the area.

"Yes?" There was no point in hiding his identity from the man because, from the very beginning, the monk knew exactly what he was dealing with long before the angel spoke with the voice of his chosen vessel.

Mayhap it was because his chosen vessel was a foreigner from England and whispers of his presence in the shrine were spreading, or perhaps it was because the monk's hearing had become so keen that the flapping of powerful wings was distinct. Whatever the case may be, Toshi always knew it was Castiel before the angel could manage a single syllable.

"Do you have a special person?"

"Pardon?" Castiel may have known every language given to man but the colloquialisms were something of a mystery to him.

"A person who is special to you." As if that was so much clearer. Toshi was in the habit of talking to Castiel like he was an old friend, asking him peculiar and personal questions such as this. Castiel was in the habit of constantly trying to piece together the riddles and figure out what on earth Toshi was talking about.

When the meaning finally dawned on him, the visitor felt a slight tug at his lips as the muscles pulled tight into a frown. "We are not permitted to covet a single human over another."

The monk evidently thought this was funny. Coming to a stop beside a stone bench so as to rest his apparently weary legs, Toshi clucked softly with laughter. "But you didn't say no."

Craft old men, Castiel found, made his right eye twitch.

"Many years from now I will be given the duty of watching over a very special soul. It will be my first extensive and long term mission, but this does not imply that I will hold him above all others. Such a thing is an unforgivable sin."

"What's his name?" It was like the man wasn't listening at all.

"Dean Wi--"

"Winchester?" Well that was... unexpected.

"Yes."

"Ah." And the monk was smiling. Actually, he wasn't exactly smiling, but it was the only expression Castiel could think of to describe the unexplainable grin painting its way across Toshi's face.

"I do not understand."

Reaching over, the old man patted a small hand gently on the angel's knee before gingerly rising with the aid of his walking stick. That look of amusement was confusing and when Castiel's inner mind gleaned information from Toshi's, all he found was bemused endearment there. "Take good care of him. He will lead you to great things, even if the cost seems more than you can bare."

Toshi was not a prophet.

An amazingly talented psychic and a holy man but by no means a prophet. So the curious advice bestowed upon Castiel was unexpected, to say the least. Mostly because it's very hard to surprise an angel of the lord. Especially when it came to their own future.

"Cost?"

"Don't worry about it." Toshi waved a hand as if attempting to wave the whole conversation off while trudging back towards the main shrine. "Price is trivial when the outcome is so wondrous."

Castiel wasn't allowed to travel forward past his own reference in time. Such an act would make him omnipotent and that was strictly forbidden unless expressly stated otherwise. However, had he the ability to travel forward instead of back, he may have strongly considered bending the rules to get a glimpse at said "wondrous outcome".

Then again, Toshi was just a man. How could he possibly know things so far ahead when even an angel of the lord could only be informed of the most vague of details?

~*~

"Cas?"

The brunette glanced in Dean's direction, pulling his mind back from the places it had been.

"Yes?"

"We should call it a night. Nothing's biting and I'm out of beer."

Castiel knew the latter was probably the more viable reason the older brother was insistent on them leaving, however, the angel also knew it would be very unwise to deny Dean his beer. Much in the same way it would be unwise to deny him his pie, or jump in front of a speeding train trying to get to its already determined destination.

When they reached shore they could see Sam trying to pick up the cabin by means of neurotically cleaning everything in sight. According to Dean, Sam had an affliction that made him incapable of "being manly". Like living by the rule "leave it better than when you came," in most cases. Castiel had offered to heal him when he still was able to, but Dean refused and said it would just end up costing surcharges in the long run. It wasn't until much later that Castiel discovered there was no such human disease and Dean (according to Sam) was a big lying jerk.

"Hey Sammy, miss me?" Dean was grinning and Castiel suspected it had more to do with his muddy boots tracking dirt in than happiness at seeing his sibling.

"Dean!" Sam's face was wrinkling at the nose, brow pulling down in a look Dean called Sam's "bitch face". Castiel knew this well if only because he was around Dean so often and Dean was frequently under the scrutiny of said look.

Instead of actually replying, the eldest Winchester merely toed off his boots and meandered further into the house. Castiel copied the motion but closer to the door so as not to illicit a foul mood from the younger brother.

"Well at least someone has manners." Sam grumbled after his brother, turning to Cas a second later.

"Dean has manners." It was true. Castiel had seen him use "please" and "thank you" many times.

"Yeah, but only if it's benefiting him."

Oh. Good point.

"Dean is a good person. He means well..." was Castiel's final resolve, even if it wasn't a defense or at all convincing when he said it. It was more a thing of habit and devotion rather than a sincerely (and thoroughly thought out) response. That WAS his job after all, to protect and defend Dean. Just as it eventually became his mission to also follow him. And follow he did, to a point that some would call excessive and possibly stalker-ish. Not that Castiel was a stalker, but the brothers liked to joke about it often.

Granted, the defected angel had his own duties to attend to (read: finding Father) but Dean had always been and always would be a special project and his orders were clear... but so was his all encompassing determination.

Besides, it wasn't like he was getting orders anymore. Or getting anything from that line anymore. The "angelic radio" as Dean put it, was silent. Not a whisper or a hint of connection left. He was completely cut off. And he was lonely.

It's part of the reason he habitually checked in with the trouble making duo. Team "free will' as (once AGAIN) Dean put it, became his tourniquet from the encroaching deafening silence. And wasn't that one of the biggest indicators he was losing his grace? Outside of the obvious (slow healing time, slower travel, no "angelic radio" etc), it was not the silence that bothered him but HOW it bothered him. Loneliness was a new concept to him.　

When you're an angel, it simply isn't possible to feel lonely. Not only is feeling the emotion itself a foreign concept but the opportunity to feel it never exactly presents itself. And how could it? When you're connected to the host, there isn't any room to be lonely with all your brothers and sisters so palpably connected to you. No room when you can feel their consciousness in your soul, their voices whispering rhythmic murmurs to your mind and their love... their all encompassing love wrapping around you.

It's really a shame Dean Winchester had only ever met warrior angels because Castiel believes that the human's opinion on angels may have been swayed to a more positive outlook had he had the opportunity to meet a guardian angel. Even just once. They were on a lesser tier of the heavenly hierarchy but they were so very much more understanding of human nature than the warriors, like cupids but... less disturbing.

"I found something, by the way," Sam announced. The loud grunt from the kitchen signaled to them both that Dean was listening. "It's a box."

Castiel merely stared, no recognition in his eyes. And why should there be? Humans were fond of that particular geometric shape and used it for practically everything. Personally, Cas liked triangles.

"There's a ritual blade inside," Sam continued, "one of four said to be able to kill anything, including the devil."

At that, Dean popped his head out of the kitchen door way and into the hallway where his brother and angel were standing still. "Like the colt?"

"Older." Sam quirked an eyebrow, "Much older. Like, from ancient Egypt older."

Green eyes flickered over to Castiel who was doing his best impersonation of a statue. Not on purpose, mind you, but out of sheer habit. The less attention one drew to themselves, the higher their tactical advantage became.

"Cas? You know anything about it?"

"No." And it was true. In all his years he had never heard of a box containing a ritual dagger that could kill the devil, and THAT was enough reason to raise suspicion. Surely if such a thing existed, the Host would have been made aware of it. Then again...

"Huh. That's comforting. Well, where do we find it?"

Sam's face instantly lit up like Vegas and Dean knew, just KNEW, it had to be something implausibly nerdy. Oh god, please don't be another museum.

"The S.A.M. is holding an exhibit..."

"The... Sam?" It was nerdy enough to share the same name as Gigantor so it was bound to be nerdy beyond comprehension. Which meant it was totally going to be a museum. Dammit.

"The Seattle Art Museum." Cas chimed in suddenly, forcing both human pair of eyes to turn and look at him. Evidently the statue thing was no longer in season.

Sam lightly cleared his throat and looked back at Dean, still bearing "that" expression- the one that signaled it was time to share one of his history lessons. But just as the explanation was about to begin, he was cut off by Dean who lifted up both hands in a gesture that signaled weary defeat.

"Fine. We'll check it out tomorrow." And that was that. Dean dropped his head and rubbed at his face. He was going to have to go to another museum. He really had no luck. Either that, or someone up there had a really sick sense of humor. And judging by his experience with most heavenly beings, that wouldn't be that unlikely.

With a roll of the eyes, the eldest Winchester pulled himself back into the kitchen and looked over his sandwich plans. The bread was laid out already (nice bread too, no wondercrap... though he secretly kind of liked the stuff) along with the gourmet meets and cheeses. All that was left was deciding how many to make.

"Cas do you need a--" but by the time Dean managed to stick his head back into the hallway, the angel was gone. Seriously? Someone needed to house break that bird.

"You say something?" Sam blinked up from his disgruntled scrubbing position on the floor, avidly getting to work on the footprint remains.

"Yeah. You missed a spot over there."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

TBC


	3. The Emerald City

**Title**: Color Me Descending

**Co-Author**: BlackFruitBat

**Chapter**: 3/?

**Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas

**Rating**: PG (eventually R?)

**Spoilers**: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.

**Feedback**: Please? We're big fans of it. Keeps us going _

**Warnings**: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.

**Authors Notes**: Sorry this took so long to get out. Chapter 4 is already done and under final edits now, so, it will be out much sooner than this chapter was. We just ran into a lot of life problems (moving, school, sick etc..) and it slowed us down. Also I should make a big note that everything written after the boys leave the SAM was done by Blackfruitbat and all credit should go to her. With that said, on with the show!

* * *

"Let's review."

"Tomorrow night you want me to go into the museum after hours, take the box, and bring it back here… how is this not stealing?"

"Because, Cas, we don't want to keep the box, just the thing inside it."

"So we're stealing the sacramental blade inside the box that we're not stealing."

"It'll only be stealing if we die before we kill Lucifer and return it." Dean argued, assuming the world didn't blow up before then.

"Dean. I don't understand how this isn't stealing."

"Come on Cas, you rebelled from heaven - Why the hang up on morality now?"

Castiel was starting to get irritated and Sam tuned in just in time to realize they were treading on very thin ice. Time to cut in and save them from breaking it.

"As soon as we have the blade we can tell if we need it or not. If not, we'll return it right away. If we do need it, we'll use it and if the museum is still around afterwards, we'll return it to the box." Sam was ever the pacifier and Dean was.. Well, Dean was just being Dean. Standing there grinning while Sam was pleading and Cas staring. Skeptically.

"So it's temporarily stealing."

"Borrowing," the brothers chimed in unison.

The angel remained unimpressed with their fallible logic but Sam could tell he was going to give. Cas always gave when they needed him to. Or, at least, when Dean needed him to.

The youngest Winchester wasn't as oblivious as he seemed sometimes. He simply couldn't afford to be anymore, and it kind of helped that the signs were plainly written on their faces. Cas was no longer just their (read: Dean's) angel, no longer just their back up, no longer just their friend. He was on the very edge of becoming family and that… that clearly terrified Dean.

Friends… family.. they were all liabilities and they all could be lost. While Dean and Sam were experienced in loosing loved ones, that didn't make their passing any less painful.

Cas was in deep now though and it didn't look like Dean was too keen on letting him go. Not that Sam's stubborn pig-headed dip of a brother would ever admit that, least of all to Cas, but Sam knew it to be truth and that was enough for him. Hell, he had already welcomed Cas with nearly open arms upon meeting him. If not simply because he was an angel but because he was the one who pulled Dean out of hell and returned him to Sam.

Rising to his feet, the youngest glanced out the window of their motel which was awkwardly placed next to a giant pink elephant car wash. A sigh escaped him because there were some things even he didn't understand about humanity, and giant pink elephant car wash signs was one of them.

"We should walk over now and scout the area, check out the box.. You know, the usual?" Sam knew they didn't actually need to investigate tonight because they were just going to send Cas in tomorrow, but this was one of the few times they got to stay in a major city and he wanted to look around. Couldn't hurt the other two to come along anyway.

"I don't know Sammy..." and there was Dean's usual protest.

"There's a strip club less than 2 blocks away."

Sam couldn't even feign surprise at the turn around in his brother's attitude when he mentioned the local talent.

"Sammy, I'm surprised at you! What kind of person do you think I am?" His mock horror had Sam rolling his eyes as he slipped on his coat.

"It's a 'Vu."

And Dean was out the door before he could say another word. With a very resigned noise of exasperation, he turned and looked at Mr. Socially Awkward who was still standing, well, awkwardly in their motel room.

"Come on Cas! We have some finer points of civilization to cover." Came the call from the parking lot.

Cas frowned, eyes drifting over to Sam. "He's not talking about the museum." It wasn't a question. Predictable as ever.

"Probably not." Sam ushered his friend out of the room and locked the door behind them. "After I drop Dean off, I was going to go site seeing. You could come if you want?"

Now there was a social dilemma Cas clearly did not know how to approach. Go somewhere he didn't want to because Dean was calling him, or do something he might like with Sam, who was not Dean. The youngest watched in almost sick fascination as the angel was forced to chose between brothers. Something told him this must have felt remarkably like a man forced into siding with his girlfriend or his friends.

Now that was an unnecessary mental image he could have lived without.

Cas eventually nodded to Sam as he passed by him and trailed after Dean who was aimlessly walking down a street he didn't know. It wasn't an "okay" or even a real answer, just a pseudo confirmation that he was considering the options. Sam didn't envy him even a little.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

"Do we really have to do this first?" Dean was not whining because Dean Winchester did NOT whine. Perhaps complain loudly and use a certain tone to emphasize said complaint -but that wasn't whining. Even if it was.

"If we do this first, you'll have more time for.. miscellaneous activities."

Now, see, if Sam had pointed that out, Dean would have made up a thousand different excuses as to why going later would be better and if Sam didn't agree he'd just be getting his panties in a bunch; however, since it was Cas saying it, suddenly actual thought had to go into a bit of the process. Shock me, shock me. Granted, it only gave them a second or two more of his silent contemplation before the grumbles rose again, but that was another story altogether.

In the end Sam weaseled all of them into the museum first after a solemn promise to pay for Dean's cover charge later. A small price to pay for broadening his brother's cultural experience -or lack thereof.

Quickly snagging a brochure (and bickering over directions), Team Free Will made their way up the stairs and around the corner to the special display set dedicated to Egyptian artifacts found in a more recent dig.

"There." Cas spotted the box first, not surprising, and Dean quickly followed after, also not surprising.

By the time Sam got over there, he could see a wrinkle in Cas' brow beginning to form a known expression of concentration or aggravation. The resulting head tilt informed Sam that the angel was unmistakably confused. See, he usually was looking at Dean when he did that and Sam couldn't blame him. Dean WAS a very confusing (and probably very bad) example of humanity

"This is old." The angel muttered.

"Thank You Captain. Do you have anything else for the crew of the obvious ship?"

Naturally, Cas ignored him. "It's a cursed box and it's much older than the artifacts around it. Looks like it was relocated to the tomb a long time after it was created."

"Well that makes sense," Sam came closer to the glass display, starring at all the items encased within. "They stored valuable items in tombs from all eras. Only question is, why a cursed lock box?"

As they all knew, the only reason someone would put a cursed box in a tomb was to keep anyone else from opening it. The wheels of thought clicked and turned inside Sam's head and he began to have second thoughts. They had to be careful. Really very careful, because he remembered the rabbit's foot and he really didn't want to lose any more shoes.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say we shouldn't open it until we know more about it." Obvious statements were obvious.

Apparently Dean agreed. "Good to see the crew is sticking together for the sake of the ship. And since we're still out to sea I'll add that once we have it, we can send pictures back to Bobby and see what he thinks."

Decisions made, place scouted and plans in place, it became obvious that Dean was done with being there. He punctuated this by the way he began to fidget in correlation with his rapidly growing disinterest. Sam knew it was mostly because these sorts of things (as in: museums, art galleries, science buildings… nerdy things in general except libraries because hot Librarians tended to be freaky in bed) were just not his style. Dean was more of a bars-and-pubs-and-clubs-with-the-occasional-seedy-motel-and-lounge type of guy. Anything more than that and he started to feel out of place like a mutt at a pure breed dog show.

So, being the benign brother that he was (read: getting bored of watching Dean fidget), Sam concluded they could leave with a sigh of exasperation and a "Okay, let's go…" escaping his lips.

"Great!" was the beamed response he was given, a sudden liveliness dancing in his brother's eyes. The older man then slapped a firm sort of pat down on Sam's shoulder, similar to how a father would applaud a son he was so very proud of. "To start, I think I saw a couple of bars we passed on the way here-"

"Dean..." Came the inevitable groan and eye roll with accompanying protest, "You want to drink now? It's only 2 in the afternoon."

Cas gave a mental nod, for he too thought that early consumption of alcohol would only lead to more trouble than good; although, he knew actually disagreeing with Dean's recreational activities would not exactly stop him from doing them.

"Sammy, Sammy," Dean merely grinned, "it's the perfect way to prep for the local female talent. Trust me, this I know for sure: Seattle doesn't have bars in their strip clubs. You have to take care of that yourself first."

Sam only managed yet another sigh- although he was a little surprised Dean took it upon himself to know what the drinking and strip club laws were in other states. Funny how he couldn't manage to stay awake long enough to research their next hunt online but when it came to these obscure laws no one else would have bothered with, he could research long enough to commit them to memory. Figures.

"Alright, we'll go to a bar. For a bit." His disgruntled expression only thickened as Dean celebrated like a ten-year-old who just got a bike for Christmas.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

During their short adventure of wandering around, Cas had come to the realization that while this city definitely had some unique individuals with an interesting way of dressing themselves, there was still a sense of calm and peacefulness drifting throughout the streets. It was not something he'd expected a city to feel like; yet, this tranquility was not long experienced while the boys traveled to Dean's anticipated destination.

The eldest Winchester had decided to "grab a few shots" (and by a few, he meant 7) to "nurture the soul before lovely ladies had the chance to," or so he so eloquently put it. Dean had wanted to share this nurturing as well, forcing shot number 4 on a very surprised Cas who mostly choked and sputtered on it after being suddenly assaulted with a windex-tasting liquid nearly poured on his face.

Dean, of course, hardly seemed to notice this in the middle of his festivities. Nor did he pay any mind to the fact that he was on the brink of stumbling- actually, no, clearly stumbling, by the time the three of them stepped up to the strip club's entrance. Yes, everything was fine and dandy until they noticed something amiss, Dean's smile from ear to ear vanishing almost immediately only to be replaced by a greatly perturbed "Dean face." The reason for his upset being what Cas was currently eying on the main door.

"Whaddya mean culosed!" The oldest brother looked as though he was pissed or about to faint from shock (What? These things were hard to tell sometimes).

Running his eyes over the sign again, Cas just blinked at Dean. "There's not much we can do, they don't open until 10pm," The older brother just thought that he was so matter-of-factly about a crisis that it was uncanny. Of course, this earned a noise from Dean that sounded greatly like a whine- but since he didn't whine, it could only be labeled as more of an irritated groan.

"That'sso ridiculous! I know... plenty ostrip clubs that areopen in theafternoon." Sam couldn't help being amused at these slurs, but Cas was more preoccupied with watching the other gesture by swinging his arms around, hand clenched in a fist of disapproval. He was going to hit someone unnecessarily at that rate and then they'd have another mess to clean up.

Noticing Dean wobble a little, Sam disguised his sudden support for helping him stand as a consoling pat on the back. "Well like it or not, that's how it is. In the mean time, we could instead go check out-"

"I'll find my own strippers!" Dean announced suddenly (read: loudly) breaking away from his brother, causing a few passersby to turn heads in their direction.

"How about we move," Sam started to suggest to, well, Cas, as Dean was already ten determined paces ahead of them. "We didn't even eat today, so maybe we could go get lunch?"

And Castiel would of agreed if it were not for his attention being taken by something far more pressing. Dean had reached the end of the block at this point, and apparently made a new friend: a brunette with long wavy hair, thick red hoop earrings, tall, TALL heels, and a certain taste for very short denim... garments. And of course, Dean was busy trying to covertly convince his new friend to be his stripper (just what did they put in that alcohol?). Cas had a sudden and pressing feeling that this may not be the best person to ask.

Sam followed the angel's gaze, blinked upon realizing what was happening, but instead of being alarmed like his brother's angel, he broke out into a painfully amused smile right before doubling over in laughter.

This was not helping.

Castiel briskly walked up to Dean just as he slurred, "Noreally, you are... SUCHapretty lady... how about you and me. Forget the boyfriend fora night and lemme showyou around."

"Dean."

"I bet you like strip clubs!"

"Dean."

"Imean, you are wearing shoes like theydo. Eh butyou're better than they are."

"Dean."

"C'mon let me showyou a good time. I know how to-"

"Dean."

"WHAT CAS?" the man exploded at once, sporting a small lack of volume control to say the least.

"You should realize that is a man."

Dean froze, clearly attempting to work through the alcohol before he gave up and laughed it off. "Nooooo, this is Candy. Candy an-I were just talking about whatare good strip clubsto go to that aren't closed!"

His new friend Candy only smiled, lips gleaming with what appeared to be quite a few coats of red lipstick.

Castiel lamented for small towns with less obscure complications.

"Dean, for your sake, you should realize that this isn't someone you would normally look for at your... strip clubs."

"Hey hun," piped Candy, in a masculine voice with a feminine twist that made Dean's eyes suddenly boggle. "I used to dance, don't knock it just because you don't like it. We don't play that way around here."

Spinning on heel with a glare in Cas' direction, "Candy" flipped her hair and marched off. Dean's momentary realization that he didn't exactly bat for Candy's team flew from his mind as he watched her miniskirt sway from right to left.

Castiel tilted his head in complete befuddlement but, nevertheless, cleared his throat. "We should go."

"She was totally into me. Thanks Cas." the inebriated one grumbled, seeming as though he completely forgot about what seemed a little off about his new female friend.

Sam, who had laughed until tears creeped into the corner of his eyes, finally joined up with the them at this point. He took the opportunity to consider but inevitably NOT point out that Dean must have some deep rooted attraction for men if he could profess his feelings to one easily, especially if he was only a bit intoxicated. "Let's get some lunch," he suggested instead to his comrades, one of whom was glaring death and the other who carried an unnerving frown.

A bus (because there was no parking to be found anywhere in downtown) and a few blocks of walking later, Dean was significantly less fuzzy about his perspectives and surroundings. Although he was still pleasantly buzzed and couldn't help wondering aloud why that man was wearing a leather vest and matching leather pants, awesome that those two girls were holding hands while they walked, and why were there were so many unsightly rainbows everywhere.

Cas remained quiet, and Sam came up with whatever he could to answer Dean's questions when he himself wasn't entirely sure why there was some sort of strappy thigh belt... device, hanging in the window they just passed. Or what exactly were those mannequins supposed to be doing. But one thing he was sure of was the magazine article he read in their motel room about fabulous places with fantastic food sure as hell left out any mention of where all these places were located.

While walking along and passing their umpteenth clothing store, they happened across a young man about Cas' height. He was blond, sporting a short bed head inspired haircut and dressed in a very flashy pinstripe pants, a tight white T-shirt with black decals swirling around in some sort of design, and black boots with a very pointed toe. He was setting up a shoe display outside of an odd looking building comprised of large windows, white columns, and blaring loud dance music to the passersby.

Castiel, being who he was, was perplexed by what the building's exact existence was for (shoes? music? it didn't make sense), and he slowed his pace in an attempt to study it. The angel's perplexity caught the attention of the man apparently called "Justin," as read by his name tag, who turned from his set-up and gaped at him.

"Sir? Sir!" He announced with some outrageous hand gestures as he approached the unsuspecting Castiel, "You are too gorgeous to be wearing that oversized trench coat! It doesn't show off your figure at all!" He stepped up quite close to Cas. In fact... Cas would have called it uncomfortably close if he had such a thing as a 'personal space bubble' (or so Dean would call it). "And I bet you have a good figure to show off much better things," Justin finished with a smile.

Cas just stared at him as though he was speaking another language, his silence not helping to stop Sam and Dean from continuing their wandering on ahead.

"If," Cas uneasily placed his words together carefully, "if you are referring to my clothes, they are just fine. Thank you." He hoped this would be enough to detour the young man into leaving him alone. However that proved to be moot as moments later his eyes widened as his wrist was suddenly gripped and he was dragged arm-first into the store, vanishing between the doorway and bold music into the shop labeled Panache. For a split second, he debated defending himself, although the other young man didn't exactly look strong nor appear evil and thusly smiting would be unjustified. Really an unfortunate thing.

"Now now," Justin remarked in a scolding tone, "we are having a huge end of the month sale right now, so I won't take no for an answer. 80% on everything but the pride items, since that's coming up," he nodded to a shelf they passed by which was covered with rainbow... everything. "And don't be nervous!" he laughed on, eyeing that Cas looked as though he wanted to vanish (literally) from sight. "You're in good hands. If you aren't used to shopping I can certainly help you pick out some fabulous things."

Castiel gave something that sounded like an acute muffled yelp of surprise when he found himself shoved in a changing room. Soon dress shirts, vests, t-shirts with designs, jeans, jackets, blues, blacks, whites, pinks, you name it, were bundled in his arms. "Give these a try," beamed the sales clerk, "I bet you will look excellent in all of them! You have a look that is very versatile, it'd be a shame to waste it."

The angel morosely looked down at the pile of clothing he held, then a little helplessly at the door. Best not to do something... Unexplainably alarming, like vanish, so he concluded that the only way to be free was to appease the young man of the store. With a heavy sigh, he started unbuttoning his trench. This shouldn't take too long.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

Not more than a few stores down at a window that displayed corsets, handcuffs, and leather pants, Dean was wondering aloud to Cas if the angels had some sort of handcuffs in heaven and if they used them to detain someone... or for recreational activities. When Cas was more silent than usual, he looked back and saw that the angel wasn't anywhere in sight. Normally this wouldn't call for any type of alarm except that he had made plans for that Holy tax accountant and having him vanish suddenly would ruin them all.

In a breath, his eyes became clearly focused, sobering up instantaneously, as a clear cut and serious tone sprang up in his voice.

"Sam! Cas isn't here."

Sam, who had been gawking at what appeared to be a fetish set (but could have just as easily been the shoes because this WAS Sam after all) , suddenly looked back at the empty spot where Cas was supposed to be, apprehensively looking around elsewhere as well. "What? Where did he go? When did he go?"

"Not sure," Dean stated, turning on heel and taking off at a jog, "but he couldn't have gotten far. We only passed a few stores since he was last here- Check those two there, and I have those other three." The brothers split up, feeling a little more worried about "who" may have happened to Cas instead of "what." Angels in gay fashion districts seemed like a recipe for disaster.

"How are you doing in there?" Justin questioned with a smile, organizing one the racks within hearing distance of the dressing rooms.

Only a few moments had passed and Cas was just barely finishing undoing the last button of his shirt, let alone making an attempt to try anything on except one pair of jeans that were... uncomfortably tight. "I need... more time," he managed, feeling almost... panicked? Just how quickly were people expected to put their clothes on? No wonder so many humans were so stressed all the time, being pressured like that.

Cas picked up the item that was laying on top of the clothing pile he had dropped on the floor. It was gray and black, with these odd little... diagonal zippers in a few places. He tried unzipping one, but it was only a few inches long and did not go anywhere or do anything. Brow furrowing in confusion, he unzipped the other, also having no avail. "What the..." Trying the buckles next, he found that these too were useless. Just what kind of clothes was he given? Why would someone put on a fastening device with no purpose? Where they even clothes?

"Excuse me," Cas called out, but no one answered except a quick pair of silent, hurried footsteps entering the store. Hearing nothing and unsure if the young man had left, Cas called out louder... feeling rather silly now that he had to ask for assistance. "Excuse me, I need … help!"

"CAS!" boomed an all too familiar voice and, before Cas knew it, there was Dean, who just rammed into the dressing room and broke down the door as he did so. Cas wasn't sure what to be more alarmed by, the fact that Dean just exploded through the door out of no where, or the fact that he unnecessarily damaged property in the process. He blinked at Dean, who straightened up and brushed wood chips and flecks of dry white paint off his clothes.

"Thank G-uh, I... I found you. Why are you here?" Dean breathed, his frantic state beginning to die down upon finding Cas safe unharmed. But then, much to Cas and Dean's surprise alike, a very red color welled up on Dean's cheeks as he looked down and realized the angel who was always swimming in a trench coat and suit was standing before him in nothing but a very tight pair of undone distressed jeans.

"Um-" was all Dean could bumble out, Cas just starting at him evenly and not noticing how Dean seemed to be getting frantic again. This was the first time Dean saw the angel without his usual attire, and much to his surprise his chest was deceivingly fit, which one would never guess thanks to all those layers and loose clothing. Dean wasn't sure if it was his posture, but the way he held himself also defined every muscle of his arms, chest, stomach... It caught his attention in a way that he just couldn't break from, staring unblinkingly at the shirtless Castiel.

"I'm sorry, I was dragged in here..." The abrupt voice broke Dean's trance in a way that made his heart jump. "He was persistent, and he told me to wear... this," Cas hung the shirt up in front of Dean's face, who only reddend more as he looked the zippery, strappy, suggestive looking shirt, imagining that Cas might actually look pretty good in tha-

"We're leaving!" Dean announced, grabbing the shirt and throwing it on the floor. "Put your clothes on Cas, we gotta go."

Stepping out of the broken door, they were greeted by Justin who looked a little surprised at seeing one of the doors mowed down. "Hmm," was all Justin said at first, and right when Dean was about to apologize he was surprisingly cut off with a laugh. "Don't worry about it, it's not like it's coming out of my salary," he grinned. "Besides, I know how those spats can be. When you want to make up nothing will stand in your way!" The wink he finished with earned all sorts of shades of red on Dean's face.

Why did they always assume?

"By the way," the clerk added as nonchalantly as possible, "if you are interested, we are having a sale today! 80% off, which it looks like you could use. It's not very flattering to be wearing jeans that are falling apart and a dead cow. Especially when you have someone so cute to impress." Justin nodded in the direction of the dressing room, that grin saying so much more than his mouth was.

Dean rubbed his face, hoping that the heat he felt emanating from it would start to go away before Cas finished getting dressed. "No thanks," he choked out, making his way to the door while taking out his phone to call Sam.

He never used to get this embarrassed over the commentary people made about him and Sam but.. This was different. At least with Sam he could clearly point out that he was his brother but Cas? Cas was his… friend. It wasn't so easy to brush off the allegations and even when he did, it started to make him wonder. Why did people suspect so much?

Cas finally emerged, dressed in his usual clothing which earned a small sad look from the salesman. "I'm sorry," the angel fumbled out, "but we need to go."

"I completely understand," Justin waved it off with a knowing grin. "These things happen, so you two can work it out." Cas had no idea what the young man was talking about, but took up the freedom to leave anyway, trailing after Dean to the outside of the store.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

"Okay, great, thank you!" A relieved smile beamed at the world as the younger Winchester jogged back to his not-so-patient company, the angel of the two looking like he was quite done with this day. They couldn't find the restaurant they were originally looking for, so Sam took it upon himself to ask the locals for some personal favorites.

"That guy over there said that there is a really good place that has amazing burgers, and it's just down the street." He nodded in said street's direction.

"Good," was all Dean could managed, lumbering off with the other two trailing behind him. At least there was some silver lining to this ridiculous day. After walking a few more blocks, they finally reached it and that silver lining was starting to look at little more like aluminum.

Dean and Cas stared, brows furrowed in part confusion and part disbelief.

The eldest Winchester cleared his throat. "This... is what they recommended to you?"

Sam nodded solemnly, a defeated sigh parting his lips because he was feeling as though he was a little at fault for the irony of this one.

"Jesus Sammy!" Dean barked, ignoring the dirty look Cas shot him. Blasphemies aside, the exasperation was called for. "Of ALL the places we have to wind up eating at tonight, it just has to be called Dick's."

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

By the end of the whole day, only two were standing at the entrance of the strip club (which was now open because it was thankfully 10pm and time to get Dean's masculinity back). Sam had split ways after their meal: he apparently went off to entertain himself, partly because he didn't like strip clubs and partly because Dean had an odd feeling that he would somehow wind up professing his attraction to another man if his brother continued to stick around (and, yes, he was blaming it on his brother). At least, in this city -it had a weirdness to it that he couldn't shake.

However, in retrospect (and retrospect was always 20/20) with Sam gone, the commentary didn't exactly stop and the remarks of how Dean and Cas looked very suited for each other, by the small number of people they passed by on the way to the strip club, continued. This, naturally, made their entire time alone together rather awkward. Or at least for Dean. Cas being Cas probably didn't even notice.

"Come on." The more human of the two rolled his shoulders back and stepped into the first door. They were going to have a good time and that was that.

_**tbc**_


	4. You'd Think He'd Get A Clue

**Title**: Color Me Descending

**Co-Author**: BlackFruitBat

**Chapter**: 4/?

**Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas

**Rating**: PG13 (eventually R?)

**Spoilers**: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.

**Feedback**: _Please?_ We're big fans of it as it keeps us going.

**Warnings**: They're at a strip club. Mentions of topless women and mild sexual situations.

**Authors Notes**: Well here it is. We're finially getting to a little more DeanxCas UST. Which will only get worse as time goes by XD

* * *

There were many excuses Dean could have dealt around but what it came down to was that Dean wanted Cas at the strip club because the bemusing reaction Cas had to things "unholy" was enough to make him burst at the seems with laughter. And, hell, if he could get a lap dance or two out of it, all the better.

A lap dance from one of the GIRLS (he felt he should mentally note) because a lap dance from Cas would be.. Awkward. Especially after today. While Cas was considered (by most standards) to be an attractive man, he was ultimately such a nerdy little angel guy that "sexy" never fit into his profile. Ever. And even when it did, it didn't, regardless of what the shirtless Castiel images flaunting about his brain were saying.

Still standing at the base of the stairs, Dean side glanced Cas who was looking spectacularly more uncomfortable with each step of the way. Awesome. Oh, how the small joys in life made dealing with the rest of the shit storm easier.

So, with a backwards glance to make sure Sam really wasn't there or following them at all (because Sammy would, no doubt, attempt to "rescue Cas from undue stress" or something like that), Dean paid entrance and ushered them on in.

Black lights were the decor but the theme was.. Dark. Not dark as in "cryptic" but dark as in "someone ran out of funding to properly light this B-rated movie set". Heavy base sounds were drumming in their ears and the overall atmosphere looked like it was boredom abound. Besides themselves there were only two other guys in the main seating, which was all tables and couches facing the main stage. An appreciative whistle from the back said there were probably a few more guys at the shower room but, on a whole, the place was theirs. Again with the awesome. Dead nights meant more approachable dancers. And of course the fact that they were good looking and Cas had the air of "innocent" all around him meant they definitely had some aces in their pockets.

So Dean pushed (yes pushed) Cas into a double seated couch with a table up front before sitting down next to him to enjoy the free show. The only downside to 'Vus were that they didn't serve alcohol. The upside however was that Dean had already started his night early and as a precaution he always carried a flask just in case. The added bonus was that Vu always offered free drinks in which he could mix things into. Less conspicuous that way.

So the night really started at 10:45pm when a cocktail waitress brought them each a coke, of which Dean willed liberal amounts of (extremely) hard liquor into. Liberal meaning the entire flask.

By the time 11pm rolled around, the older Winchester brother had regained his buzz and was working on further intoxication. The dancers had been/still were hot and Cas was fidgeting none stop in his discomfort next to him. With any luck, this was going to be a great night.

At exactly 11:10pm one of the more distinctly attractive dancers waltzed up to them and Dean could feel a measure of his previously thwarted good luck returning to him (finally).

"What's your name cutie?" Or, at least, his luck was sort of returning to him. The bombshell made up of smiles and barely fitting clothing was sliding in between them, however, instead of playing with Dean's shirt, she was tracing her painted nails over Cas's tan trench coat.

For all intense and purposes, Cas was attempting to transfigure himself into a marble statue under her intense blue eyed stare. Blue eyes that weren't quite as bright as Cas' and , really, only half as blue. To distract himself from unfair comparisons, Dean began to wonder if Cas was actually breathing at this point, which was terribly amusing under the influence of so much liquor.

By the time a whole awkward minute crawled by, Dean thought it wise to intervene so he could get the night moving in a more.. positive direction.

"Don't be fooled by the petrified expression, Cassie -" His mind faltered for a split second before picking back up, "-nova here is always like that around exceptionally beautiful women." Dean made another mental note to never call Cas "Cassie-nova" again, it just made too weird links in his brain. Besides, it was "Casanova", his inner Sam pointed out before his inner Dean punched him for interrupting his intoxicated thought process.

The angel in question opened his mouth to object as soon as the dancer shifted her attention to Dean, but the stern look Dean shot back over her shoulder made Castiel shut his mouth and allow his opinions to suffocate in silence. Good. Dean didn't feel like hearing any protests from Cas tonight anyway. Or at least not right now. The more Cas let him do whatever he wanted, the better…

And now his mind was back in the gutter. What the hell was wrong with today?

"Oh." The unnamed girl broke up Dean's thoughts as she dropped the painted smile for a knowing expression. "And are you his wingman?"

The ironic choice of words earned her a laugh. "Something like that. How much do you charge status for a lap dance?" The only thing better than getting a private dance himself was forcing one on Cas and watching the comedy unfold.

"Normally? Twenty five a head but for you.. How about a two for one deal?"

"Absolutely." Oh hell yeah. Now he could be amused and enthralled all in one almost-awkward-but-totally-awesome-anyway go.

"Follow me then." Her questionable smile was back, uncurling onto her violently red lips as she rose gracefully (and that was a feet in 5" heels) and walked towards the side booths. Each, Dean noted, were well equipped with their own pole and side blinders to prevent any unease between patrons from blossoming. Their booth was just big enough for two, and Dean didn't even hesitate to consider otherwise as he forcefully man-handled Cas into it. The angel would thank him later.

Cramming himself in next to his companion (and wasn't that cozy?), Dean was grateful that the alcohol had managed to seep further into his blood stream. Least he let some stray thought bother him, like how odd it felt to be pressed next to his friend from ankle to shoulder in such an erotic scenario.

And, yes, it was erotic because miss blondie with large assets was sauntering towards them looking more than a little expectant. Hail 151 and the wicked ways of humanity.

It took the more human of the two a full minute to realize that the expectant look was not so much aimed at him (or Cas for that matter) but at their collective wallet. Dean quickly responding to cues by fishing out the right amount (throwing in a little extra for generosity's sake and because it was Sam's money) before handed it over and getting settled again.

Not but a few seconds later the beat shifted and when it did, Dean was indeed enthralled. The dancer was.. voluptuous, curvy in a way that was punctuated with each sway of her hips. She moved to the rhythm like she was lighter than air, in a way that looked as effortless as breathing. If he wasn't positive that Cas would have noticed immediately, he would have accused her of being a siren. Speaking of the dev-er-angel, Cas was marble. His eyes were slightly wide and fixed at some unseeing spot while his body held a position so stiff it rivaled rigor mortis.

Again the Michael vessel found himself stealing glances at his shoulder angel (thank god Cas couldn't read his thoughts anymore because he'd totally kill him for that implication). A wide surly grin with a flash of teeth peeked out from behind full lips and made itself present before the owner turned back to face the (now) topless dancer. Whoa! When did that happen? Said vessel concluded that he needed to pay better attention to these details else he was bound to miss more than he got to enjoy. Under further examination, maybe it had been a bad idea to take the 2 for 1 special because Cas was proving to be an ample distraction. And wasn't THAT weird?

The woman who was now fully engrossed in her work, swayed towards him first, which made sense because he was significantly more approachable than the angelic statue next to him. And what a woman she was, lush in every way that, if he were allowed to touch, would have given him a pleasant handful of firm-

"Your friend looks scared…" Her voice lured him from his daydreams like the mouth that was warm against the shell of his ear. A green tinted gaze lazily dragged itself from ample assets to Cas who was doing that thing he did so often when he thought no one else was looking. He was starring. Awkwardly.

Not at the exotic dancer, which would have made sense, but at Dean. His eyes were like shards of azure ice piercing through the core of the righteous man and almost entirely clearing away all the alcohol induced fog that had been clouding his vision until now.

And in this rare moment of clarity, the world felt wrong.

The situation, the place, the time… the… country? Everything felt out of place as if the universe had shifted without him noticing. Yes, all of it was inside out and backwards… except Cas. Castiel seemed to be the only constant in all of this aberration. Or maybe Dean was just drunker than he thought he was. Yeah. That made much more sense.

"He just needs a little TLC and I think you're the perfect one for the job." He lied, of course, but he did that a lot so what was one more to the pile?

Besides, the dancer didn't know any better. So when she stood up, shifted over and startled Cas, she had no way of knowing how uncomfortable she was making him. IF it were actually possible, Dean would have said Cas had gone paler when he locked eyes with the woman sensually moving in his lap.

The Winchester actually started to chuckle out loud at Cas' horrified face, openly expressing his amusement at the angel's pain when the laughter suddenly caught in his throat and died. Castiel wasn't looking pained anymore, he wasn't even looking slightly panicked either. Instead those brilliant blues were focused hard on the girl as if contemplating something more serious than they had the right to.

It was the same remarkably unsettling look Dean had been the victim of time and time again, but somehow it seemed all wrong when directed at anyone else. It was as if Cas was sharing a secret with this stranger in which he had previously only told Dean. And, like the 12-year-old he sometimes morphed into, Dean didn't like it. Not one bit.

Great, now his mood was ruined. And by what? A look. One stupid look that he didn't like because Cas had NO right to be giving that soul searching expression to anyone else. Least of all to this mostly naked girl who was all over him. She clearly wanted Cas and that would just not do. Not because it wasn't okay but because Cas wasn't into humans. Thinking back to the brothel, Dean already tried that route and it ended in failure. So, clearly, this floozy wasn't going to show up his previous efforts by succeeding.

The more Dean sat there, the more he silently fumed and even when she turned back to him in order to even out the attention, it was already too late. The scowl was in place and those feminine whiles weren't going to take the edge off.

About thirty seconds into the woman's last ditch effort to amend some kind of imagined wrong, the song ended and subtly announced their private dance was over.

With very little what-to-do, the dancer rose fully to her feet, put on what little clothing she had, and waved as she wandered off. Dean didn't feel so good about being there anymore. As for Cas, who seemed lost in thought, well, he didn't really want to come in the first place so there was no harm in leaving right away.

When everything was mentally squared away, Dean formulated a plan.

"Let's go." He stood, not wanting to over think why one lap dance for Cas would put him in a foul enough mood to leave. Especially after he had been looking forward to it all night,

"Dean?" The barest hint of a question bubbled up and lingered behind the mostly flat tone, betraying his seemingly cold indifference.

"I said let's go. We have more important things to be doing," It wasn't true but he didn't want any arguments. The further he got from the situation the sooner he could wash his hands of this weirdness.

Without a backward glance, the aggravated human stomped out of the establishment and made it about a block and a half before he noticed Cas wasn't with him. Naturally this only served to put him in an even fouler mood as he hailed a taxi and trekked his way back to the motel.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

Now, if anyone had asked Dean how the next few moments played out, it would have read like this:

Dean Winchester (epitome of calm, cool and collected) strolled into the motel casually when Sam shot him an annoyed glance from over the top of his lap top, suspiciously muting the volume to what Dean was sure was an old Care Bears cartoon.

"What the hell happened to you?" The quark of his lip suggested his exasperation almost as much as his tone did, and the eldest brother was simply not in the mood for any of that. So, for the sake of peace, he ignored the barb and tossed his coat gingerly in to the chair by the door.

"Deeeeeaaaannn~n."

Dean could feel a headache spring to life, "Sammy, not right now. Nothing happened."

"Deeeeeaaaannn you have to talk about your feelings. Keeping all this bottled up inside will make you, like, explode or something."

"Sammy, I'm fine. Nothing happened." His life's mantra.

"But.. Dean.."

"Sammy!"

Cue the kicked puppy look that always made Dean feel guilty enough to exit stage right where the porcelain god awaited.

Now, ask anyone else (namely Sam) how the scene went and they'd tell you it went something like this:

Sam Winchester, the perpetually unfortunate bystander of Dean's bad moods, was most innocently (according to him) researching on his laptop when Dean burst in like there were hell hounds at his back.

"What happened?" Sam was startled by the nearly palpable anger in the air around him, so naturally he was worried. "Dean?"

"I am NOT in the mood Sammy." Dean threw his coat violently at the chair. It missed by about two feet but Dean was far too engrossed with his stomping around to notice.

"O.. kay. Seriously man, What happened?"

"Nothing. Happened." The words were ground out like broken glass and Sam blinked at the shattered pieces.

"Whoa. Then why the angry brooding? And where's Cas?"

"Whatever." The bathroom door slammed in response and the youngest brother was left sitting in the middle of the room completely befuddled.

About five minutes later (two minutes into Dean's impromptu bathroom excursion), Cas showed up gently cradling the cursed locked box.

"Oh. So that's where you were." Sam managed while the angel placed the box on the coffee table.

"Where's Dean?" Typical.

"Cooling off in the shower." The youngest was flippant with his comment as he studied and looked for every kind of lock box/weapon combo missing and known to exist around and pre-dating ancient Egypt. As it stood, he had only previously known about the weapon but not the box. Or at least, not enough about the box to open it.

"He was over heated?"

"Something like that." Sam actually managed to look up, get up, and walk over to the table where the box was innocuously sitting. "There's Enochian on it." He commented off handedly.

"Yes. It's a ward to keep in a 'great weapon'."

"So the angels DO know about it."

"Or at least one does. This is a powerful ward, Sam. We need to be extremely careful."

If Sam were Dean, he would have made a remark about obvious statements being obvious. However, since he was Sam and thusly more socially sensitive and graceful than his older brother, the younger just opted to make an agreement noise while running his fingers over the carved wooden puzzle box.

And then Sam addressed the elephant in the room.

"So how do we open it?"

**_DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC_**

Feeling somewhat less bitter, marginally more sober, and significantly cleaner, Dean stepped out of the bathroom 20 minutes after he had entered it.

Yes things were now smoothing out as all the little wrinkles of stress evaporated with the shower steam. That is, until he ran into a snag and frowned again. Said snag was sitting dubiously in his brother's hands, causing that frustrated irate look that always managed to square Sam's jaw tightly.

"What's that?" Dean turned to see Cas leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. Yet another snag in his stress-free mood. "Is that the box?"

Cas noted the older brother wasn't waiting for answers, which was really counterproductive to his want for them. Frowning for a good minute, Cas attempted to accurately wage if Dean was really looking for a response or merely saying whatever came to mind first. Which DID happen quite often.

And judging by the raised eyebrows and slight head movement forward, he guessed Dean was genuinely looking for a response, so he complied.

"Yes." If it were possible, he'd be pleased with himself for getting the hang of 'Dean Speak' (or so Sam puts it).

"What's it doing here?" Now, while the angel had managed to pick up on what certain looks meant, he was still having problems with the colloquialisms.

"I brought it here." That, really, should have been obvious.

"I gathered."

Now Castiel was just confused. Why ask a question that you already knew the answer to? Clearly his charge must still be under the influence.

"I mean, why is it here NOW? You weren't supposed to retrieve it until tomorrow night."

Oh. That's what he meant. Then WHY didn't he just say as much? What was with humans and never directly stating what they-

Snap!

Cas blinked. Dean was snapping at him which meant his mind must have wandered.

"You said we had more important things to do. I-" He frowned deeper than before. Had he misunderstood? "The phrase seemed to suggest we should get a 'jump start' on the plan."

"You've been talking to Sammy too much." Because the term 'better things' did not equate to work in Dean's world, only Sam's. Sam, who was looking up and arching an eyebrow at Dean. What? The man dressed in only a towel shuffled over to his brother who was pointedly staying OUT of the conversation, least he be berated for no reason too.

"How's it coming?"

The younger man had turned back to his project and, once more, became fixated on the puzzle box. He had pushed and pulled and turned and moved all the pieces around in order to try and open it. To no avail.

"I think.." Sam's brow lowered with more concentration than Dean would ever bother with, "I almost.."

And suddenly there was an ominous click and a few ticks before the box opened and released a strange scent caught between ancient perfume oils and dust. The three pulled in closer, huddling over the thing in order to peer inside and discover..

"Another box?" Sam sounded forlorn.

Dean just sounded annoyed, "Oh you have GOT to be kidding me. What is this? A damn Russian nesting doll?"

"It appears to be a riddle." Cas was pulling the smaller box out of the larger one, rotating it in his hands to stare at the hieroglyphics.

"Tell me you know how to read that because I left my Egyptian to English translator back at the club." Dean felt he deserved points for recognition at least.

"Hieroglyphics," the other two corrected and the eldest Winchester had the startling epiphany that these two were no longer allowed to hang out alone. Ever. Again.

Dean watched the Sasquatch and pretty boy angel look over the -Whoa! Whoa ,whoa, whoa! Since when did he ever refer to Cas as 'pretty boy angel' in his head? 'Cas' , naturally - he gave him that nick name to begin with. 'Nerdy little angel.' yes. 'Geeky small guy,' sure. 'Holy tax accountant,' why not? 'Dick with wings,' not so much anymore. 'Castiel,' sometimes though almost never. But 'pretty boy angel?' Not his.

"Dean? You appear to be having a dilemma." Speak of the devil. Angel. Whatever.

"What does the riddle say?" According to the Dean-to-life handbook, when all else failed, obvious diversions were an acceptable tactical maneuver.

Cas turned his impossibly bright blues back to the box.

"It says, 'I never was, am always will be. None ever saw me, nor ever will…" He rotated the box lightly while squinting as translations clearly ran through his mind. "And yet I am the confidence of all who live and breathe on this terrestrial ball."

Silence shuffled in and filled up the entire room with its weighty presence. The hell was THAT supposed to mean? The pregnant pause continued for several minutes longer before Dean rubbed at his face. Three in the morning was NOT the time to be solving -

"Tomorrow." Sam said.

"My thoughts exactly, Sammy. It's way too early for this-"

"No," He cleared his throat looking a little sheepish, "I mean the answer is 'tomorrow'."

Dean starred at his brother like he had suddenly sprouted tentacles because, really, who knew the answer to things like that right off the top of their head?

"You are such a freak."

"But he's correct." Cas commented as he clicked in the answer into place by turning the symbols accordingly, handing the box back over to Sam when he was done so a Winchester could finish the last of it.

The wall watched as Sam allowed his finger to hover over the button, taking in a deep breath as he did so. This was it. The solution they had all been searching for.

"Sammy, unless you're planning on using a Delorean to get my wasted minutes back, push the damn button."

Dean, as it turns out, would learn to regret his impatience some day.

Sam pushed down on the button and the box flew open, a powerful burst of energy and light exploding into the room. It spilled and filled into every nook and cranny, reminding Dean of what it was like to lick a 9v battery. You know, the tingly shock which wasn't entirely unpleasant but defiantly shocking? And don't pretend you never licked one of those square 9v when you were a kid either. Everyone did. Or at least Dean did, which meant that Sam did and.. well anyway…

Instinctively, the elder brother stepped in front of the younger and Cas stepped in front of both of them. Naturally this meant Dean opened his mouth to make commentary about the unnecessary action, but he was immediately cut off by a booming voice that sounded like thunder clapping down right in the very room they were standing in. It shook the foundation of the motel and rocked the walls, forcing the lamps and the boys to unceremoniously fall towards the ground.

When the earthquake subsided it became apparent that the voice they heard wasn't talking in some ancient dialect or any dialect at all. It was laughing. Laughing with one of those tones that oh-so-clearly let the world know that you just did something monumentally stupid.

**TBC**


	5. The Threads That Bind

**Author**: Antiquitydreams  
**Co-Author**: blackfruitbat  
**Chapter 5**: The Threads That Bind  
**Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas  
**Rating**: PG (eventually R?)  
**Spoilers**: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.  
**Feedback**: Please? We're big fans of it. Keeps us going  
**Warnings**: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.  
**Authors Notes**: So.. I totally got swamped with 6000 things to do and several conventions to attend and now that it's summer.. I feel a little dead from breaking my back for spring. Either way, here is the new chapter that I've actually had in my brain for a long time now. I have always been in love with the concept of Cas re-building Dean Winchester before bringing him back and wanted to touch on that in this chapter. I hope you all like it ^^;

* * *

Castiel clearly remembers the day he received his orders from Michael, the ones that informed him of his "special mission". It wasn't exactly a surprise; after all, he knew it was coming because Joshua had told him several thousand years prior that he needed to prepare for this day as it would "forever change you, brother". Now at the time, Castiel couldn't fathom how the resurrection of a single human could "forever change" him, but he went along with it like any good son would.

Step one was the reconstruction of Dean Winchester's body. Though, it wasn't just the physical vessel that needed restoring. His mind would also need tampering with. The human psyche was simply too fragile to contain the memories of the exact moment of death, resurrection and all the steps in between to survive properly in the waking world. So Castiel dutifully landed on earth and went about making things right.

To humans, this would have seemed mostly instantaneous. But to angelic (or even demonic) kind, the process was agonizingly slow. After all, the hellhounds and natural decomposition did a number on the body of this righteous man, and the reconstruction of him would not be a simple task.

He started with the bones. Much like his father had, Castiel pulled up handfuls of earth (strong and withstanding) in order to shape them into bones - better than the ones left behind. Nimble visions of fingers wove the old in with the new until the fusion was seamless. Not a scratch or dent remained from where the beasts had chewed and clawed at his ribs.

Next he moved to the muscles. This was a much more challenging task, considering all the damage done at death and the deterioration after death greatly effected the malleable tissue. With a bit of thought, the angel collected clouds and stretched them out into strings in which he properly laced together to make muscle. When he was finished, he replaced all the old and rotting with perfectly formed and new.

The organs were thankfully a different story. With the exception of the intestines, most were in tact and simply in needed of a bit of repair. So he took elements from the air and sunbeams to suture up the damage and make them ready for the awakening.

Next was the skin. Now, Dean Winchester had been a beautiful creature, even by angelic standards, so he would have to be careful if he wanted to do this man any justice.

Castiel had observed Dean on several occasions under various situations and noted how his face moved with motion and emotion, committing his image to memory for this very moment. Moving quickly to the near by trees, the celestial being collected leaves, fixed them together with grace from the earth before placing them over the body lying prone on the ground. They molded into the shape and curve of the skeleton newly wrapped in muscle to make a flawless cover.

Castiel had been mindful to replace the inked parts of Dean back where they belonged, but chose to rid him of all the scaring imperfections that resulted from a life time of good works. After all, if heaven needed this man to stop the apocalypse then the angel was going to see to it that he was in perfect working condition. At least, physically. Reaching out, he touched the body and aged the body to the exact moment before Dean's death, so the mind would not go into shock when it awoke and discovered new parts. These details were important, and probably why heaven sent their most detail-oriented angel to do this task.

For the finishing touches, Castiel traveled to the sea and collected water in a large shell and pulled lightening from an off shore storm. These things he brought back to the gravesite of the righteous man and paused only a second to consider the remaining order in which things must be done.

Tilting Dean's head back, Castiel tipped his jaw open and poured the sea water gently into his mouth before using his grace to will the water into the rest of the body. By mere suggestion, the being of light turned the salt water into new blood and left himself with only one last thing to do before descending to collect the soul.

Holding the stray lightening bolt high above him, ancient Enochian spilled from the impression of the seraph's mouth and the ground began to quake. Without a second of hesitation, Castiel plunged the lightening bolt through the heart of the man, and the whole form arched up in response. The body jerked suddenly and set itself into quiet motion. Dean was alive. Or, at least, his body was.

A slightly exasperated sound emerged from the angel as he suspended the body's animation before hiding it back in the box he had removed it from. He wasn't sure how long this would take and it wouldn't due to have the body perish from a lack of oxygen or starvation before he could get the soul into it. With barely a flip of the wing, the angel left the man behind and headed off to find the Hell Gate.

Had Castiel been an archangel, this could have taken much less time. Archangels didn't need to borrow materials to resurrect humans, they simply had to will it into existence. But Castiel was still a young being by comparison and had not yet earned the title or the privileges that went with it. Though, he had to admit when he was sure no one else was listening, that it was curious heaven would send HIM to do this work considering the disadvantages. But, who was he to question the will of the father? Out loud, at least.

Arriving at the Hell Gate, Castiel could see his brothers and sister standing to attention in order to aid him in this venture- of which he didn't feel he was entirely prepared for. Originally, he was almost certain that Anna was to lead this expedition with him into hell and retrieve Dean Winchester. But Anna fell, causing Castiel to be immediately promoted. Some would say this was unfair as he lacked the experience that many of his subordinates possessed, but it happened nonetheless.

Ureil, a former captain of the heavenly armies and current second in command to Castiel, was one of the many who made their lack of approval clear. Uriel, who stood impatiently by the entrance with an expression that could be construed as bored. Castiel knew better, of course, because he knew that Uriel loved the art of war more than he probably should. Of course, the younger of the two didn't want to point that out. The facade gave courage to those not yet ready to enter the Netherworld for the first time. Those like himself.

Bracing himself, Castiel let out a single command. "Let's go." And the entire Host held its breath.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

The underworld was a blur. All the screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth was filling their thoughts and making the trip so much harder. Hell fires licked at their wings and singed their robes as they traveled through the maze of rings and levels. They fought their way through it all and a battle that seem to last for ages longer than it should have.

At last, and according to plan, Castiel reached Dean first.

The eldest son of John and Marry Winchester was mid filleting the imagined skin off some tortured soul when he entered their realm. The nightmare all around them was mostly the construct of the damned, but you could tell the parts Dean had influenced. Hooks and chains and knives amongst the various other instruments of torture were littered across the nearly empty room, making the space too small and threatening.

The walls were bleeding, the floor was indiscernible, and the ceiling looked alive. It was as if the area was part of some large animal's intestine that pulsed in a rhythmical heartbeat. These things were grotesque at best and getting uglier by the second. Time to leave.

Castiel reached for Dean who flinched and pulled out of reach, unwilling to go with the creature bathed in light. It must have physically hurt Dean to gaze upon the angel if his expression was any sign at all.

"Dean Winchester." The words from the divine caused every wall to start pealing back. "My name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord. I have been sent here to save you." He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but the violent recoil had not been it.

The soul jerked backward so quickly that Castiel was almost certain he would have to give chase to the fleeing soul. Dean's remembered eyes were wide and as brilliant green as ever, almost moreso amongst all the red gore around them. The Seraph made a mental note to correct the duller shade he had left them later.

Without another word, he reached out and gripped Dean's shoulder tightly. The soul shrieked in pain as he was yanked from the pit but Castiel paid it no mind. He simply held on tight as he could while the human fought and struggled to get away from the blinding light. However, Castiel's grip was steadfast and he never wavered in his mission.

With an explosion they passed into the mortal realm and the angel quickly placed the soul back into its body before managing to cloak himself. He knew he had to be careful with these things, least he be forced to build Dean another set of eyes.

Tripping over Dean's mind, Castiel pulled portions of memories out from the tortured soul just to make sure everything went smoothly. He worried that even the memory of an angel's true form could do damage, so it simply had to go.

And with the boy whole, the mind mostly clean, and the soul resting within, the angel braced himself for the last part. Concentrating, Castiel reached within himself and pulled out shards of his own grace. This was not an easy thing to do, because it was one of the most painful things an angel could do to oneself. In fact, it was not so unlike a human attempting to cut out their own heart with a butter knife.

He eased only when the tiny shards were nestled inside the palm of his theoretical hand. The translucent shards of light pulsed slightly with the rhythm of his being and produced their own iridescent glow, as if they were alive. And for all intents and purposed, they were.

With great care, Castiel stretched the shards into nearly invisible threads, using them to bind Dean's soul into his newly reconstructed body. The threads hummed at his proximity and ever so slightly eased the anguish of the soul within. Each stitch was carefully woven and painstakingly placed because one wrong move and this man would be marred forever. The angel diligently worked until all was finished and his work was done. Taking a step back, he rested and silently watched his work unfold. This was a special task indeed mostly because it was a living piece of himself, one of which Castiel bestowed to this human. To this Dean Winchester.

He would never utter the words to another creature but the angel knew that as much as Dean's soul was now bound to his body, so was Castiel bound to him.

The Seraph continued to watch for another moment as his grace harmonized with Dean's soul effortlessly and he wondered if this was the real reason why HE was chosen. If, for no other reason, because their father knew that such a synchronicity was rare in ways that it had only been spoken of once since he was created.

And it was for all these reasons that Castiel could not accept the notion of Dean Winchester being destroyed.

The sheer amount of time and effort it took to put the man back together alone was enough to make Cas jump in the way of harm. Never mind the fractures of his grace just under Dean's skin or the personal ramifications that it might entail, this was a matter of principles.

So when all that work and effort started to complain about "Cas not needing to stand in front of him," the angel promptly ignored him. Yet, that familiar searing of his flesh being torn apart in the name of self-sacrifice never came. In fact, not only did it not come, but the gentle whisper of finger tips crossing his brow through all the smoke and dust took him completely off guard. His powers really were failing him.

"You." The word was old and in a dialect only the highly exalted priests of old and celestial beings spoke in.

Light faded dim, the clouds of dust and smoke dissipated and in the still amongst the wake of debris stood a man. Or what could be perceived as a man. To Dean's eyes, he looked an awful lot like a woman and if he weren't shirtless, Dean would have never assumed otherwise.

"I waited so long for you." The creature murmured in a more common tongue as it circled the angel who stood tall and still, obviously waiting for the inevitable tear down. It stopped in front of Cas, trailing his hand over the side of Castiel's face. Clearly this was a trap.

"Who the hell are you?"

Sam noted that Dean was crass in a way that only his brother could manage, and Sam mentally slapped his forehead. Really, only Dean Winchester had the combined bravery, stupidity, and complete death wish to tell off something so clearly more powerful than himself.

Again, the creature continued to ignore their presence in favor of interjecting himself into Cas' personal space. Assuming Cas HAD personal space, which they all knew he didn't. Sam wanted pander it off to a supernatural-creature-thing but by the look trapped in eyes of obsidian, he started to doubt it.

There were few looks that could ever be misinterpreted as anything but longing and Sam grew steadily more uncomfortable under the weight of it. Even if it wasn't directed at him. The human looking thing looked possessive as his long tanned fingers curled into Cas' disheveled hair to cup the nape of his neck and, oh God, that was uncomfortable to watch.

Sam took the awkward moment to scan the scene, noting the distinctly period looking white robes and Egyptian blue headdress. The same blue as the large pendent weighing heavy against his mostly bare chest. There was black writing scribbled across his effectively dark skin and if Sam looked close enough, he might have noticed a faint glow.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about." Castiel interrupted the moment by greatly resembling a statue with a hinge jaw for all the movement he was giving. How very angelic of him, seemingly unaffected by the proximity of the man-thing in that cool and unattached way that only Cas ever pulled of effectively. Sam gave him props for always seeming to face certain (and probably painful) death head on without flinching.

In fact, Sam turned to make a similar comment to his brother but upon seeing Dean's expression, all witty remarks of any sort crumbled in the space between thought and speech.

His brother looked like he was on fire with all the barely contained rage radiating from his furious look. Once more, Sam felt awkward, not only because under that unkempt anger there was a look that nearly mirrored the beats'... but because it just seemed so out of place on Dean's face. Sure Cas was family, but that looked seemed a little extreme for the situation. After all, it wasn't exactly like the guy was threatening Cas.

"Hey!" The oldest brother strode forward, taking all that wrath with him like a weather front moving in to decimate some tiny coastal town.

Said metaphorical town turned and actually looked at Dean this time, pupils expanding to take over the entire eye and fill it with a black abyss that seemed as endless as space. Yet it wasn't the expression of promised injury that stopped Dean (he cared so little for pointless threats) but rather the near physical force of the "man's" aura. It was almost tangible and Sam (because he was rushing towards his brother in order to stop him from doing anything else on the high end of the Richter Scale for stupid) noted it was like walking through mud.

"You." It was that distinctively ancient word again but the meaning was completely different this time. With Cas it had been affectionate, but with Dean it was probably best to say that it was something akin to rotten garbage.

Again the earth trembled and Sam could see everything happening in ultra slow motion. Because that's how it always works when you are about to die.

The demon killing knife, because with eyes as black as those one just HAD to assume, came out and flashed violently towards the presumed demon. Sam was, naturally, impressed with his brother's speed but wholly unimpressed with the fact that instead of screaming injustice and dropping to the ground, the expected demon simply eyed the blade stuck inside of him indignantly. And then of course he laughed.

Because it wouldn't be Thursday without the laugh.

The youngest Winchester had just enough time to sigh before the very physical burst of energy sent him and his brother sailing backwards into the air. Which, honestly, would have been fine if it didn't almost always come with an inevitable crunch against a wall. This time was, not surprisingly, without exception. And the last thing Sam remembered before it all faded to black was Dean's voice ringing loud and clear.

"Sonovabitch!"

**TBC**


	6. This Is Not My Life

**Author**: Antiquitydreams  
**Beta/Co-conspirator**: BlackFruitBat  
**Chapter**: 6/? - _This Is Not My Life_  
**Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas  
**Rating**: PG (eventually R)  
**Spoilers**: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.  
**Feedback**: Please? We're big fans of it. Keeps us going _  
**Warnings**: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.  
**Chapter Summary**: In which Cas and Dean deal with Pandora's box and some other angelic influences finally step up to bail them out.  
**Authors Notes**: Wow.. life got crazy. Thank you to everyone still keeping tack of this story and double thanks to those awesome enough to review. 3 You're all wonderful.

* * *

Dean knows that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes... or replays...or whatever. But that's NOT what was happening here. This wasn't HIS life. None of these flashes were.

A glimpse of a room, filled with stuffy people in even stuffier clothing. It was like a bunch of nerds LARPing at a renaissance fair.

A flash of tunics. Shrines made of stone. Heavy and seedy incense burning through the steam that drifted throughout the air.

Spots of color and faces darted here and there until the vertigo parade settled on a riverbank scene. He was standing at the edge of a river, water lapping at his feet and soaking the leather worn sandals that barely covered them. It must have been early morning because light was just starting to shine in pale blue slivers around the horizon with no sun yet in sight.

"I met an angel today," a voice next to him spoke. He didn't recognize the language but, all the same, he knew what it had said.

"Let me guess..," Dean could feel his own lips curl into a distinctive smirk, a feeling all too real despite this being a dream. "They're not as great as the stories make them out to be?"

A strangely memorable voice laughed in deep ripples across the air as he felt the presence of its owner move closer. It fluttered all about him then snugly wrapped around his heart like every good memory of childhood he ever had. And that concerned him.

"Your brass assumptions remain unchallenged, but at least this particular angel told me how to capture Atum."

And right as everything began to fade to black, Dean could feel himself turning and allowing his eyes to snap over to that familiar pair of startling blue ones.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

"Dean?"

Dean felt (more than he heard) his name, like pin pricks behind his eyes. Worst. Hangover. Ever.

He didn't remember drinking that much but then, he didn't remember half the night. It was all stitched together in blurry fragments, obscured by a mind numbing pain which had him speculating what god damn asshole involved him in a hit-and-run.

"Dean." The pins were turning into jackhammers and Dean rolled over to groan at his pain. What the hell did he drink? Hazy green eyes cracked open and the man finally managed to peal his face off the floor. Awesome.

"What?" It took a good 30 seconds before his vision cleared enough to make out some of his surroundings. It took an additional 20 seconds for some of his more recent memories to come flooding back with a vengeance. However, it only took 10 seconds for the (momentarily) forgotten aggravation to rise to the surface once again.

They were still in the hotel room and only a few minutes must have passed, because Cas was still standing between him and the S.O.B. that apparently hated him on principle. Aforementioned aggravation tripped into searing ire. Glancing to his right to save himself from a killing rage, Dean could see Sam sprawled haphazardly against a wall and, what a fucking relief, he was still breathing.

"Sammy?" he called, just to make sure.

"He's fine." The angel elaborated on Sam's behalf with an underlying 'now get the hell up,' and Dean simply complied because that's what years worth of conditioning did to you.

Quickly upsurging to his feet, the oldest Winchester did his best to look menacing. Which may or may not have been effective when he was still wobbling and coming to the obvious conclusion that there probably wasn't three of the super-douche-who-hated-on-principle in front of him. Well fuck.

"What the hell ARE you?" Because while Dean's memory was vast in all things supernatural, he couldn't figure out what these things ("things" because his vision was still supplying that there were two extra) in front of him were.

"He's a weapon." Cas' face twitched and Dean noticed because he always made a point to. What? It wasn't like the angel made a whole lot of expressions, so keeping track of tiny facial movements was important when reading him. And, yes, it was important to read him because... It just was.

There were moments like these when the eldest brother was extremely happy that Sam was demon blood free and Cas agreed not to read his mind. Not that he actually could so much anymore...

"Wait, a weapon? You mean the 'Sacramental Blade' is-"

"A Person. Creature…" Whatever, Dean mentally added because Cas needed more slang in his vocab.

"God." The being intruded into their conversation with common tongue, stepping towards them as if he had the right to. "Though they call me by many names."

"I couldn't imagine why..." Dean was out for another battle where the winning prize was unconsciousness but the creature let it slide as he continued.

"Temu, Ra, Atem and Tum but I prefer Atum."

"It's old," Cas added under his breath to Dean who merely tensed. "Older than-"

"You." Again, it was interrupting a very important A/B conversation.

"Figures. You seem like the type," Dean grumbled irritably. What was another concussion anyway? "I've met a lot of Gods and they're all alike. Spewing the same redundant pile of crap again and again. The only things that change are the faces."

If Sam were awake, he'd be proud that his older brother used the world 'redundant' properly in a sentence. However, since it was just the three of them in the land of awake, his due praise would have to slide this time.

Atum's right hand visibly twitched and Cas tensed this time instead.

"You haven't changed." The thing turned his attention more fully to the only conscious Winchester in the room, gaze flickering back to Cas long enough to make Dean uncomforta- wait. What did he…

"What did you just say?"

"You." Atum spat the word out, "Alive then dead, dead then alive, again and again. You've been around the wheel so many times now and you still haven't changed a bit." The closer the supposed "God" came, the more pungent the aroma of something old became. Dean was starting to get that familiar tickle at the back of his mind that was letting him know he was officially in over his head. Not that it was going to stop him from mouthing off or anything.

"I'm sorry, what?" Eyebrows drew together, the hint of something cynical pulling at the corners of lips.

"Nkosi, you don't know?"

Dean frowned. The hell was a Nkosi?

"They really didn't tell you any of it?"

Okay, now the super douche was just messing with him. It was obvious by the smirking, which only became more apparent when he slid uncomfortably into Dean's space and forced the air around them to crack with energy. This was going to end badly, he could tell by the balling of his fist and the strongest urge to smack that smirk right off this "God's" face.

"Oh." Too close. He was way too close and the air was becoming stifling to breathe.

Then, before anyone could blink, Atum was moving again and this time it was in Castiel's direction. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Dean found himself frowning at this. "Cas." His tone was brimming with so many different tones, the top foremost being annoyance because he could have sworn they moved past this. Past all the secrets and the 'Cas not telling him things' part.

"I assure you," Dean could make out that the angel was inching closer towards him out of the corner of his eye, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Well THAT got the prick. Atum's body went ridged and the smartass Winchester managed to bark out a short laugh at the surprise.

"For being an all-knowing god, you sure weren't expecting that."

There were times, few and far between, in which the oldest living Winchester wished he had been raised to keep his snaky quips to himself. And by the look on his angel's face the moment Dean hit the back wall for a second time, the sentiment was mutual amongst peers.

"They stole your memories." Atum actually sounded kind of morose, or what Dean suspected was the sound of morose over the sound of his own coughing and blood rushing past his ears. This was not his day.

Castiel, to his credit, didn't respond and Dean could tell from his position against the wall that he was confused by that familiar head tilt. And while it was grand and all for them to talk about the good old (and evidently forgotten) times, Dean would really rather not be uncomfortably pinned against a wall for the duration of it.

"They stole your memories and turned you into one of them..." The theoretical God had the gal to sound sympathetic as he relaxed his out stretched arm and allowed the invisible grip holding Dean to drop. Subsequently this meant Dean was unceremoniously dumped back on the floor with little concern as to how or where he landed. Bitch.

Oh well, his mistake. Because while Atum was raising tan hands to cup Castiel's face (and what the HELL was THAT all about?), he was missing the fact that Dean was sliding up to his luggage next to Sam. The same luggage where the colt silently waited for its moment to rise. Cas must have been aware of what the human was up to because he didn't move out of Atum's touch nor allow his eyes to flicker over and inspect what said human was doing. Who knew Cas was so good at being a decoy?

"Osaze, you must know that I never meant for this to happen. When I took your mortal coil, you were to return with me to the other side and join me in paradise. I had prepared it all for your coming. You were to be treated like any god of my realm, exalted and so well loved by me." There was a pause before the room temperature suddenly dropped by ten degrees. "If I hadn't been delayed by certain..." Dean felt the air around him suddenly crack, "...Annoying..." Again, the ground began to shake right at the moment he shoved his hand into his duffel. "...Pests, we could have been so happy."

The nerd angel was mute but his eyes were clearly searching for something (Dean could tell). It was as if he were weighing out character flaws and not liking what he found by the way his jaw clenched and his lips tugged slightly downward at the corners. And not that Dean was avidly paying attention or anything, but he did notice that when he yanked the colt out, Cas suddenly regained his status as an animate object and pulled out of Atum's personal space faster than a natural person could.

"Again. I have no idea what you're talking about." Castiel shot back evenly.

The response he received was clearly not what he was expecting.

"Why?" It was pained. "Why do you always choose him?" The words were wounded, laced with accusations that made no sense, as black eyes holding the impression of stars slighted over towards Dean. The human couldn't help but smirk when he pulled the trigger.

"Because I'm awesome."

The god's head reeled backwards and Dean only got a second to watch the fury unfold before light surrounded him and, the next thing he knew, both he and his brother were sitting in a diner across the booth from Gabriel.

"Hey boys! Glad you could join me." The mountain of pancakes between them was currently experiencing the next great flood via strawberry syrup. Gross. But more importantly, what the...?

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything too important." Gabe's eyes were as knowing as his smirk, and Dean felt instantaneously too perturbed to be grateful. After all, he was still in the grips of attempting not to feel as though his world had been flipped upside-down.

"What the hell just happened?" That was Sam. Apparently being Angel Foo'ed somewhere was enough to drag you into consciousness. Well that was a small favor worth thanking someone for.

"Pancake?"

After much additional assessment and settling into his startling new surroundings, Dean decided that today totally sucked. And Sam was never allowed to direct them anywhere ever again.

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it soon."

Castiel looked up from his kneeling position and barely masked the aggravation bubbling up inside of him. Weren't these sort of things supposed to come naturally? If they're born with all the knowledge of the universe, how did it come to pass that he couldn't even get the hang of flying?

"Because knowing it and doing it are two different things."

The youngest angel couldn't be irate with the fact that none of his thoughts were private at the moment, just embarrassed that he was so unable to mask them like the arch angel in front of him.

"Oh little brother..." The Seraph was laughing as he leaned over to help Castiel up. "We all have to start somewhere."

That really wasn't very encouraging.

"Besides," he continued, seemingly pleased when Castiel got up without taking his hand for help. "You're the newest addition we've had in a long, long time. No one expects you to be flawless right away."

"Are we not made perfect by our father?"

Again, the angel laughed. "You've been talking to Uriel haven't you? Do me a favor and don't hang around him too much."

When Castiel tilted his metaphorical head to the right in question, his older brother's easy spread of amusement was back.

"As funny as he may be, I'm afraid Uriel walks on a dangerous line with pride."

"And what of you?"

"Me? Oh, I skate around it in circles."

And this was the example he was given to learn from. Something seemed amiss here, which clearly showed on his face.

Once more, laughter erupted like bursts of sunlight all around them and Castiel felt his embarrassment grow a little hotter. They weren't supposed to have emotions, so why were there so many intermittently dancing with his consciousness?

"Don't worry Castiel," the angel's voice was as easy as his laughter. "Your big brother Gabriel would never lead you astray!"

If only Cas had known then just how wrong Gabriel could be.

* * *

TBC


	7. I Know The Pieces Fit

**Title**: Color Me Descending**  
Beta**: BlackFruitBat**  
Chapter**: 7/? - I know the pieces fit (but I wont acknowledge them at all)**  
Pairing**: Eventual Dean/Cas**  
Rating**: PG (eventually R)**  
Feedback**: Please? We're big fans of it. Keeps us going!**  
Warnings**: While the story is set in the SPN verse, it is ever so slightly AU as we are making up a background for Cas pre-show. It also deals with reincarnation/past life recognition ideas for the boys and their angel.**  
Chapter Summary**: In which Sam and Dean meet with Gabriel who fills them in on the mess they have gotten themselves into this time. And in which Sam finally has a very revealing conversation with Cas.**  
A/N**: This was hand written a long time ago but took me abnormally long to type it up, review it then get it sent off to Blackfruitbat - who also had an abnormally long time betaing it. I blame school and conventions and.. Life. Just as an FYI I have through Chpt 9 hand written and 8 is with the beta now and should go up sometime in the beginning of Nov. after my last convention for the season.

* * *

"Well, now you knuckleheads have done it." Gabe clasped his hands on the table before him while giving a rare expression of genuine discontent, the likes of which Sam and Dean had only seen a couple of times.

"What do you mean?" the oldest Winchester almost sputtered out, a little disoriented from their sudden change of scenery. Sam, on the other hand, only sat there quietly. He was intently focusing on adjusting his bearings with a wide-eyed stare at all those pancakes. If it wasn't for the pure randomness he and his brother went through on a daily basis he would probably believe he was dreaming at this point. But after realizing whose life he was dealing with, there was no contending that Gabe was actually there, clear as day.

"Oh, what could I possibly mean?" the Archangel mused, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Couldn't have anything to do with Atum... the one who gave you that horrible headache." A pointed look laced with a grin was sent directly to Dean. Bitch didn't even stop at GO.

"Wait.." the oldest brother fumbled, his voice deflated to a bitter rumble upon the thought of that... creature. "You mean... you know him?"

"Why yes!" Gabriel's face broke into an overly excited smile, seemingly as sarcastic as his tone. "Hurray, you win the grand prize for being such a fabulous observer!" (Dean assumed the 'prize' was being ridiculed.) "Yeah yeah, I know him. Have known him for quite some time. Seems he hasn't changed much... Oh," Gabe added, "and watch your back, you two. He's pretty 'handsy', if you know what I mean."

The Winchesters blinked in unison, knowing what Gabriel was referring to but not realizing it would apply to everyone.

"He wasn't 'handsy' towards me," Dean grumbled, annoyed by the mere idea of it.

"Well of course he wasn't. He hates you. I'm more concerned about my little brother's virtue than yours. In fact, I'm pretty sure there isn't ounce of virtue left in you to worry about."

Sam had to put a hand on one of Dean's shoulders to try to keep his older brother from standing up and swinging at Gabriel's face, i.e. picking a fight he would undoubtedly lose.

"Anyway," the obnoxious one continued, hardly bothered by Dean's upset, "Atum and I go way back. Well, not as intimately as him and Castiel, but still far back enough. And after I went through all the trouble to seal him up, who better than the Wonder Boys to set him free so he could start up trouble all over again..."

"YOU sealed him?" Sam finally seemed to find his voice. "Why did you seal hi-"

"Hold on!" Dean practically yelled, forgetting about being upset about the insult as Gabe's words finally clicked together in his head. "Intimate? What do you mean they go way back? Cas didn't even remember that guy!"

Gabriel huffed an annoyed sigh, not fond of Dean's exuberant possessive flare-ups. "Oh re-laaax and quit playing the jealous boyfriend role."

Of course, that made Dean's face nearly light on fire and his little brother seemed to have nearly the same embarrassment. Glancing at Sam, Gabe couldn't help but laugh. "Ah come on, don't tell me YOU haven't thought about it? What with Cas being Dean's angel and all because daddy said so, plus all of the awkward glances at one another, the sexual tension..."

Sam started focusing intently on those pancakes again.

"Shut the hell up, Gabe." Dean was really pissed now, even though he was mostly at a loss for words. Evidently a nail had definitely been hit on the head.

"Calm down, calm down. I won't tell anybody your secret. At least, no one who doesn't already know." Shorty shot an-all-too-knowing look at the very pancake-focused Sam. "Anyway, I'll explain." Which was a privilege, since Gabriel never really seemed to explain anything.

"Atum and Castiel encountered each other a long time ago. Thousands of years ago, like, back-in-the-Egyptian-times ago. See, Atum is really old and he's pretty much the reason I'm having breakfast with you two today. Since you guys wouldn't ever figure any of this out on your own, I'd like to point out the glaringly obvious fact that you can't kill an indestructible weapon- you can only seal it away. And trust me, if Cas had known this after he became an angel, he probably could have told you before you wasted your time with the Cult."

Dean looked confused and Sam's eyes lit up in odd revelation. "Wait..." Dean started, brow furrowing. "What do you mean 'before'? Cas wasn't always an angel? What was he before then?"

"I think the only important thing here is that Castiel is God's gift to you, Dean." The angel spoke evenly, an oddly serious look appearing in his eyes. "And I hope you are paying attention to ME taking the time to tediously tell YOU that Atum, being an ideological deity, can only disappear one way."

"By putting him... back inside his box..." Sam sighed, now realizing why the ex-trickster was so irritated at what they had done. "Which is probably more difficult than solving a riddle, huh?"

"Ohhhh yeah, you guys have some fun times ahead." The somewhat helpful irritant was reverting back to his saucy self. (Sam's words, not Dean's.) "Especially considering Atum is going to unlock his two 'hombres'. Then things are going to get REALLY fun."

Sam felt a looming dread but Dean was still stuck at pissed off.

"We'll find that sonnovabitch and seal him back up before he has a chance to," the eldest stated, as though it would be that simple.

"You can certainly try," Gabe returned with a coy smile.

"Why exactly do weapons like this exist anyway-?"

"-other than to be a pain in my ass," grumbled Dean.

"Well, you remember those stories back in Sunday school about Adam and Eve being booted out off the garden? And the angel with the big flaming sword being put on watch duty?"

"Atum is the angel?" Sam tried.

"No. Atum was the sword." Gabe's deadpan face clearly depicted he wasn't joking. "Time gave him a body and Power gave him a following. The following then made him into a theoretical God. Unfortunately while he used to be benevolent, all that power eventually lead to corruption. Add the fact that Atum was primarily a weapon means one big resulting mess after he became corrupted. That, and he isn't too happy about being locked in a box for thousands of years."

Both brothers looked uncomfortable with the new information about their foe.

"Now, what you didn't cover in Sunday school," Gabe went on, "was that there were three entrances and exits for the garden, and therefore three weapons. While Atum is the primary one, the others don't exactly need to compensate for anything."

"Great," Sam practically moped, "so all three are going to be a challenge to deal with. How are we even supposed to begin to handle this?"

The archangel grinned. "Well, here is where it starts to get fun. Each weapon has a charm that represents its owner's real form. Literally. That charm then has to be sealed away into its respective box in order for its owner to be sealed."

Dean frowned. "Okay, and how do we go about getting these charms, exactly?"

"You're both bright boys, I'm sure you can figure out something!"

"Yeah, that's real helpful."

"Where exactly are we supposed to look for the other two boxes?" Sam questioned, poised to take some in-depth mental notes.

"Your guess is as good as mine!" came the wholly unhelpful response filtered through the lens of a laugh. He was definitely toying with them at this point.

Dean instinctively reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone to punch in all the right buttons that brought up Bobby's name. If anyone could help them find a needle in a haystack, or... three needles in a haystack... or, three needles in three haystac- whatever, dealing with a pain in the ass, it would be him.

Regrettably, today was just one of THOSE days and it seemed that Bobby was neglecting to pick up his phone. Fan-fucking-tastic.

While Dean had a hushed and somewhat aggravated conversation of recounting what was going on and what needed to happen with the answering machine, Sam and Gabriel sat in silence. Or, Sam sat in silence while Gabe made awkwardly orgasmic noises after digging into his pancakes. No really, awkward as all-get-out and Sam suspected he was doing it on purpose if those poignant looks had anything to do with it. As Dean's one-sided conversation started to wrap up, Sam once again lit up his determined "reporter-mode" on the angel.

"So, you really don't know ANYTHING else that would helpful?"

"'Fraid I can't help you much more, Sammy boy," Gabe mused. "I'm not an encyclopedia, you know."

"No shit, but you seem to know a lot more than you let on most of the time. There has to be more," Dean remarked while hanging up.

"Weeeeell, I may have an inkling of an idea. Zeus disappeared in Rome, a while ago as I am sure you are aware of, and Dream vanished at the end of the Elizabethan era in England."

Dean's eyes widened at this. He turned his head to look at Sam. "Did he say -?" suddenly his gaze snapped over to Gabe. "Did you just say Zeus?"

Sam's eyebrows knitted into worry, dreading the next question he had. "You're saying we need to go to... Rome?"

"Are you kidding me? ZEUS?"

"And then.. after Rome, we have to go to England?"

"Like, the-god-of-lighting's-biggest-player-ever-know-to-man Zeus?"

"YES, Dean. ZEUS!" Sam then paused at his sudden outburst, continuing a little more quietly after receiving several death threats via glares from other patrons. "Wait, you... you know who Zeus is? I thought you dropped out of high school before.. that..." Wow he felt like an ass just now.

Lucky for Sam, Gabe interjected before any kind of argument could erupt. "That is where I last heard they were, but it doesn't necessarily mean that is where they are now. However, since that is where they vanished, I'd assume the boxes would be there-"

Suddenly, Dean's familiar phone melody went off. Glancing at the screen, a look of astonish mixed with something else flooded his face as he answered in one swift motion.

"Cas? Where are you? ... Uh... Oh. Uh huh. Uh, yeah, we are..." He trailed off, looking around, and then looked at Gabe. "Where did you beam us to anyway, Scotty?"

"It's an Ihop Dean, on Broadway." The innocent smile meant nothing to the boys.

"WHY THE HELL ARE WE BACK HERE?"

And some far distance away, Cas was rubbing his phone ear.

Dean continued to glare but cleared his throat and shifted his tone, significantly changing it when switching from one angel to the other.

"Yeah, Ihop, on Broadway... again... Bye."

"Well boys, I'll see you around," The former trickster stated suddenly, making a move to stand as he flashed a all-too-knowing smile at Dean. "Say hi to your loverboy for me."

Dean STARTED to rage a "God dammit Gabe, I swear if you ever say that again-" but Gabe was gone from one word to the next just before the other misplaced angel waltzed through the door. And was HE ever pissed. Cas was storming towards their booth, a thousand questions lighting his way and a few guessed ones on the horizon.

"Who-" he started.

"Gabriel," they finished as the waitress came by to drop them Gabe's bill. Typical. It was almost like the renegade's way of saying "all information has a price." What the archangel didn't take into account is that his company alone was price enough to pay for any help offered. Because, seriously, who DID shit like that?

Castiel paused to observe the brothers having a stare-off, each breaking out a fist in what seemed like a challenge. However, instead of exchanging blows they merely waved their fists at each other three times in a very silly way before simultaneously extracting odd hand gestures. Dean, with his fist still balled and Sam with his hand held flat. Apparently this meant something significant because Dean was now gritting his teeth and pouting profanities while digging out his wallet and throwing down a crumpled lump of bills.

Obviously the delicacies of human intricacies were still beyond him.

"I'll call Bobby. Again." Sam suggested while rising to his feet and pulling out his cellphone. "You fill in your... uh..." There were clearly things he wanted to say as he peered at Dean and then slid his glance to Castiel. "Cas. Fill in Cas... with information." Cas frowned. As if that wasn't obvious. What ELSE could he possible "fill Cas" with?

The angel looked back and forth between the two brothers who were evidently trading off looks of what seemed to be equal levels of mirth and embarrassment. Well this made no sense.

Sam mumbled an additional inaudible collection of nonsensical sounds then quickly skittered away.

Expectantly, Cas turned his attention fully to Dean and Dean merely floundered under the weight of it. This was going to be a long day.

A day which turned out to be pretty uneventful aside from dealing with what everyone was calling an "underground gas explosion." Not that they had any proof, but how else were they supposed to explain what had happened to the hotel?

Naturally, Cas flitted off as soon as they pulled in and the brothers were left to survey the wreckage. Which sucked, thanks for asking.

"It's a good thing you boys were out an' about this morning, otherwise you may have gotten hurt," the local fire department informed them as heavy machinery picked apart the remains of their room. Dean had never been more grateful that he mistakenly parked his baby on the other side of the parking lot, allowing the Impala to go unscratched by the debris. And while the caved-in roof was being removed, filling the air with bits of plaster and dust, the manager profusely apologized (in the only way a motel manager could) by giving them a credit for future stays at their other branches. Dean was fine with this, his moral compass not even tripping over the fact that it was pretty much their fault the motel was a wreck in the first place.

In fact, he took this as their opportunity to fish out their bags from the ruins and get the hell out of Dodge. Really, he was sick of this city anyway. Samantha, of course, was sad to see it go.

Four hours and roughly an eternity of silence later, they pulled into the Portland version of their Seattle motel. Unsurprisingly it looked the same, down to the creepy paintings on the walls hanging above the beds. God bless motel chains.

"Next time, let's stay in a bungalow. The redundancy of these motels is starting to get to me."

Dean frowned at that as he collapsed onto the bed. Sam really had no appreciation for these sorts of things.

"I mean, really.." The youngest continued but, upon turning to look at the recipient of his current woes, he found that he was pretty much talking to the walls. Dean was face down on the opposite bed where he had apparently passed-the-hell-out

"Well, that's helpful." Patent bitch face 2 came out in full force, but with no one around to appreciate it Sam let it melt away in favor of the Food Network. After all, who could stay angry at their younger brother when Iron Chef was on?

_**DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC**_

"See here, brother, I have searched all over and I am almost positive which charm is his."

Sam must have left the TV on one of those lame British shows again because it was affecting his sleep. Point made by the dorky speech infecting his usually hard earned black abyss.

"Dean? Are you listening?" That got the older brother to crack open his eyes and peer at a face he had never seen before, one that was questionably staring at him with a look that was so...

"Samuel." His lips involuntary moved for him and it caught Dean completely off guard. "I met an angel today." The expression sounded familiar and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he'd heard that phrase before.

The weird dream representation of Sammy didn't look much like him, except in the eyes. The hazel gaze directed at him intently couldn't have belonged to anyone but his Sammy. The very same who needed to stop watching the damn BBC while he slept.

"An angel? A real one?"

"His name is Castiel. And do you know what he told me?"

Sam paused in his peeling of an apple, straightening up from his hunched position over a table. The inn room they were staying in and all its respective furniture looked exactly like the last five they had visited, and God only knows how he knew that. Must have been a theme.

"I could only wager a hay penny."

"He told me not to seal Morpheus."

Dream Sam's face fluttered into surprise. "Why? What did you say to that?"

"I asked him how he knew what we were doing and... he said he knew because he watches me, knows me, and will continue to know me until the end of the world." Stalker. Upon hearing the story, Dream Sam's face remained carefully blank for a long moment and Dean could feel himself fidget because of it. In the distance a horse whinnied before his brother finally let a lopsided grin take over.

"Was he at least attractive?"

The older one felt his body move as he chucked a pillow at Sammy, lamenting for only a moment that it wasn't a shoe.

"Ow!" The sound startled him awake. "What was that for?"

Sammy, the real Sammy, was rubbing the back of his neck and plucking the aforementioned pillow up off the floor.

"Because your geek ways woke me up bitch."

"What?"

"What time is it?" Dean sat up and kicked his feet off the edge of the bed, feeling slightly better than he had when he first fell into it.

"Ten thirty. At night."

"Awesome." It wasn't really awesome that he slept that long, but at least he was up in time to go out. And going out was imperative to improving his mood, especially since all of yesterday just sucked. Sam didn't respond so Dean took that as his silent approval to trudged off to the shower, dress, then walk out the door with a flippant, "Don't wait up for me baby," called over his shoulder. Yeah. As if Sam would wait up for him.

The Impala roared to life and grumble off into the distance just moments before Sam's cell phone chimed in.

"Hello?" Of course he knew who it was, but formality seemed appropriate when dealing with an angel.

"Where are you?"

The youngest leaned over to grab the motel's brochure off the nightstand and check the address. Absently he rattled off the name and before he could even finish his comment with a "Why?" Cas appeared. Sam knew (like, REALLY knew) he should really stop bothering to ask why Cas came over because it was doubtful he would like the truth. After all, Castiel wasn't exactly the "good news" angel.

"Where's Dean?" That was so typical it almost physically hurt.

"He went out." And if Sam didn't elaborate it was just because it didn't seem right to tell Cas that Dean was out chasing tail. The less he thought about that, the better.

"Any news from Bobby?"

In fact, Bobby had checked in to update them with some leads might have, but nothing exactly fit for what they were seeking. There was the vague impression of a promised call back when he knew more information, but that was as far as it went.

So to simplify: Sam responded with a "Not really," and left it at that.

Cas nodded and because he was a creature of few words (read: Dean wasn't around), he made a motion that signified he was going to leave.

Almost impulsively, Sam jerked. "Cas! Wait!" And when the angel actually hesitated to look at him, the man realized he had nothing to say. Well... peanutbutterbrittle.

"So..." His brain wracked for a conversation starter, something that might let him get to know his companion a little better than just 'Dean's Angel'. "When we... "ran" into Gabriel we talked for a bit. About, er, a few... things..." he trailed off momentarily, distracting himself upon remembering THAT conversation. "Anyway, he mentioned that you weren't always an angel. Is that... true?"

When Cas earnestly frowned, Sam mentally face-palmed for his failure at social prowess. Clearly Dean was starting to rub off on him.

"It's true."

And wasn't that a startling confession? For a good minute there, Sam was pretty sure Gabe had been pulling their collective leg.

"Oh?"

Ever feel stupid because you have no idea how to respond to something? Yeah, this was one of those moments. Luckily Cas, being Cas, had no idea Sam was drowning in a pool of awkward and blundering communication efforts.

"There are two types of angels," the less human of the two began, turning and relaxing to show that he was abandoning his decision to take flight. Literally. "Those who are born into creation by a thought, and those who were once mortal, like yourself." He paused. "Well, not exactly like you..."

Sam waved off further explanation. The less they talked about his transgressions, the better.

"So you were human? What was that like? I mean, how long ago was that?"

"I..." Those impossibly blue eyes unfocused then and, as he unseeingly looked past Sam and the modern world on a whole, he spoke. "I can't recall. When you make the adjustment from mortal to angel, you are not allowed to keep the human aspects of yourself, or else the transition will not be successful. The soul must be purged before it can be molded into grace."

Sam sat down heavily in his chair. "They erase your memories?"

"It's a relatively small consequence of becoming an exalted one."

Being who he was, the youngest Winchester did not like the sound of that. They took everything from him (his loved ones, his memories) just so he could become a "dick with wings"? Not cool.

"He also said you knew Atum."

"Again, with memories I no longer possess. Although I must admit, it's a strange occurrence that the weapon should specifically remember my mortal form."

"Well, he apparently remembered Dean too."

There was a connection there but it was just beyond the horizon of Sam's sight. Apparently Castiel's as well, by the expression taking over his vessel's face.

"Speaking of which..." Sam shifted gears, and Cas finally came over to sit down on the bed across from his chair. "Gabe kind of mentioned that you are a gift to Dean. What did he mean?"

At least that seemed to surprise the angel. Finally. His eyes went slightly wider than before and his posture stiffened, which Sam didn't even realize was possible. If Dean thought he was the only one who could read Cas, he was wrong. The youngest made a point to understand Cas better because he actually liked Castiel, and Dean seemed determined to keep him around.

"Many lifetimes before this one, I was informed of my duties to pull Dean Winchester from Perdition. I restored his body and when I retrieved his soul from damnation, I used my own grace to suture the two halves back together." Brilliant blues were soft in a way that made Sam uncomfortable to watch him watch his hands.

"You... used your grace?"

The angel merely nodded. "When you resurrect a human to their original form, you must restore the broken link between body and soul or else the soul will simply remain a specter trapped in a rotting prison."

"Lovely."

"An arch angel can do this by making the connections out of pure energy, but..." And he started to drift until Sam caught on.

"But you're not an arch angel, so you had to use your own grace?"

"It wasn't required but it was the most practical solution."

He said it as if it were nothing, but Sam knew otherwise. "Didn't that... wasn't it painful?"

But Castiel merely brushed it off. "I was prepared."

"Yeah, but how much can you prepare for tearing yourself into pieces?"

Of course Cas didn't dignify that with an answer. No, instead he pulled a move which was so clearly Dean that Sam could see his brothers fingerprints all over it.

"When I was destroyed by Rafael..." he just completely avoided the topic, "God was able to restore me completely because of the pieces of grace I left behind." Impressions of himself left entwined with Dean's soul, Sam was good at reading between the lines. "So I feel no regret for the choices I have made. It was, at the time, made clear that my duty was to aid Dean Winchester."

Castiel made himself sound more like a piece of office equipment rather than a gift. And even if God did rescue Cas for Dean's sake, that didn't exactly fit with what Gabriel was implying. Then again, this was Gabriel they were talking about, he could have easily been full of it just to get Dean's goat.

"That sounds like a business transaction more than a gift."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

Sam was tempted to roll his eyes but starved off temptation by clearing his throat.

"Wow, don't pretty it up so much Cas, or you'll start to grow an ego."

Castiel merely blinked and tilted his head to the left. One day they were going to have to teach him sarcasm.

"I don't-" the angel started but Sam cut him off to save himself a lengthy explanation.

"So that's why you started growing human emotions? Because you were once human?"

"It's because I'm connected so intimately with Dean."

The human closed his eyes to spare himself the onslaught of unwanted images. Honestly. Over-sharing was practically a sin in the Winchester family.

"Please, don't ever use the word 'intimate' when talking about Dean again."

"But it-"

"Just...stop while you're ahead." Despite the fact that he was mostly serious, Sam's face was breaking out in an amused grin. Cas, for all of his angelic wisdom, was sometimes kind of dense. Especially when it came to all things social.

After a long moment of silence, the human's need to fill in the void became more prevalent. There were still many things he wanted to ask, even if he wasn't sure he wanted the answers.

"How do you know it's your duty to watch over Dean for this long?"

"That's a vague detail. It's simply the impression one gets when dealing with muted orders." Oh. That's right, no more angelic radio for Cas. Sam frowned deeper.

"Not that I want you to go..." Because he didn't. Cas, for all his bizarre idiosyncrasies, was family now. "But if everything is so vague, why bother sticking around now? I mean, you fulfilled your purpose, right? Why fall any further from grace for Dean?" Because he knew Cas' retaliation was never about him. Or FOR him, rather.

"I'm not really sure." It was always unnerving to hear a creature of destiny say they weren't sure about something. "This is the first time I've ever felt like I'm really doing what I need to do. This choice I made-" for Dean, "-to stay and help, it just feels right."

Sam swallowed around his sudden discomfort, "...it feels 'right?'"

"Yes. I feel like it's something I've always been meant to do."

"But for Dean?" Because while he loved his brother (was willing to die for his brother), Dean was still Dean and that made Sam question Heaven's judgment a little.

The angel looked annoyed at his skepticism. "Yes. For Dean. Who else?"

The youngest Winchester rose to his feet then, feeling too anxious to sit still and talk about this increasingly suspicious topic.

"I don't know, anyone? There's a lot of people in the world."

At this point, Castiel was indigently rising to his feet in a copy of Sam's own motions. "I don't personally pull a lot of people out of hell and put them back together with my essence." The frigid tone in his words didn't exactly cool his evidently rising temperament. "Who else should I follow but the only person who holds my grace?"

Wow. If he didn't know any better, Sam would say that sounded a whole lot like lov-

OH! Oh no. No, no, no, NO. No, that can't.. there's no WAY Gabe was telling the truth. Sam was clearly imagining things. Had to be. Because if he wasn't, this was all going to end badly. And not in that "I had a sip of sour milk" bad, but more in the "you drank the entire carton before realizing it" bad.

Looking reluctantly back at little nerdy guy with wings, it occurred to him that Castiel was completely oblivious. Stubbornly, Sam hoped he'd stay that way. For everyone's sake. And not because he had a phobia or a prejudice, no, it was because Dean made it a regular habit to confirm his playboy styled heterosexuality and Cas was an ANGEL of the LORD. Which meant pure and (mostly) uncorrupted by society, save Dean's valiant attempts to change that. Combing those forces just seemed like a trail of tears waiting to happen. Because, honestly, Anna was one thing but Castiel was quiet another.

Sam reached up to rub at his own face and by the time he pulled his hands away, the angel was gone. Terrific.

TBC


End file.
